


Treacherous Emissaries

by Starkgirlfriday



Series: The Curiously Redacted Files of Cipher Nine [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Laying a base, long fic, still a slow burn, the time line is messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkgirlfriday/pseuds/Starkgirlfriday
Summary: Evibail Colspur (Cipher Nine) works from the shadows of the front lines of Corellia to stop the machinations of the mysterious Star Cabal only to find herself at the mercy of a familiar ally turned assassin.(Part II of Curiously Redacted Files of Cipher Nine series)





	1. Prelude

Headquarters was a hub of activity; analysts were buzzing around stations, their voices frantic in their collaborations as they passed datapads and shared knowledge. All around him, the words ‘Corellia’ and ‘heavy losses’ peppered through and penetrated the din. 

Theron, in contrast, sat motionless at his desk. He preferred to be on the move; it helped keep him stimulated on days, like today, when his concentration was poor. He sat with his eyes glued to a datapad that was nicked and scarred around the edges in his hand with one finger hovering over the command key like it was frozen in ice. The screen was dark; his mind was pulled in two directions simultaneously. Neither direction was related to his assigned duties, which after two days of distracted negligence sat piled precariously in one large stack on the corner of his desk.

There wasn’t any harm in doing a little digging, right? After all, she was an enemy combatant and they weren’t likely to meet ever again. The SIS needed an accurate file about the Empire’s deadliest assassin. He set the datapad face down on the desk abruptly, his mind weighing the pros and cons again while his fingers tapped the metal on the back in aggravated frustration. It was his duty as an analyst, to read reports, search for trends, and mark potential targets or flag persons of interest. One week ago, he would have flagged her file as a person of interest, marked her as being a higher priority target and submitted the report. Why was it suddenly complicated now? He rubbed his face tiredly with both palms and gave the datapad an irked side-glance. When he closed his eyes, he saw the compassionate way that she embraced and consoled Teff’ith, the manner in which she tended to his injuries. He opened his eyes and tightened his jaw—it was time to think logically. The Republic was his sole priority; his duty was to submit reports about the enemy. He assuaged his guilt by telling himself that if she was in his position, she wouldn’t hesitate to report about him. 

He drew in a long breath and clicked Karus Jan’s datapad on with a flick of his long finger. The screen flashed to life. He drew out a data spike and with another subtle glance around the room, he went to work slicing the files. The first file that popped open was her poorly produced scan doc. He ceased his work and recalled the way her face pulled down into a scowl as he offered his critique of her work; he smiled for the first time in days at the memory. He enlarged the holo with a swipe of his finger. She wore the uniform of an Imperial Cadet; he put her age in the holo to be no more than nineteen. The freckles were less pronounced, the eyes were the same, vibrant and laced with irony with a hint of melancholy when they were added to the reticent smile.

His mind drifted to the one moment in particular that he couldn’t shake; he tried meditation, whiskey, more meditation, more whiskey, work—none of his usual escapes offered him relief. His mind saw the moonlit jungle. He spotted the patrol barreling at them down the trail; he seized her by the shoulders, his first mistake, and in the next instant he had her back pressed up against the rocks, his second mistake. The evening breeze blew a small handful of fragrant curls against his cheek, he lowered his mouth to her ear and—

Wham! A shadow overwhelmed his desk and dropped a second datapad in front of him with a rattling thunk. Guiltily, he set aside his daydreams.  
Without an invitation, Meaava, one of his fellow analysts who’d been trying to get him to ask her out on a date for sixth months, perched herself on the edge of his desk and peered at him expectantly. 

“Welcome back,” She whispered with a coquettish smile that he didn’t return. Non-plussed, she continued. “Drinks tonight. There’s a group of us going. You can tell me all about your vacation.” She gave him a sly wink then slowly meandered back to her desk. 

Meaava threw her luxurious dark locks back and tittered obnoxiously for all to hear. There was a time in his life when he might have considered her offer. She was occasionally amusing, modestly intelligent, and uncomplicated. In truth, his life was needing a little less complication these days. His eyes tore back anxiously between the insurmountable amount of work on his desk, the forlorn datapad, and Meaava. His mind circled back to his oddly complicated dilemma. When the Empire was a faceless foe, his work was easy. Now the foe had a name, a sardonic mouth that twisted when it bantered and hair so peculiar in tint that he still wasn’t entirely certain what to call it. Depending on the hour, he wavered between red or brown. He closed his eyes in frustration; he needed to get a grip. 

Another thunk echoed next to his ear; startled, he nearly fell out of his chair. He put out his hands to steady himself on his desk; the pile of work shook, toppled, and created a landslide of datapads. He turned, half expecting to see Meaava offering him a second more pointed invitation and saw Jonas Balkar instead, who was eyeing Theron’s clutter with a dubious expression. 

“I’d ask you how your vacation was but from the looks of things, you’re still on it,” Jonas remarked as he settled himself on Theron’s desk, his body language mimicking Meaava’s earlier pose. Jonas’ sharp eyes never missed an opportunity to razz Theron, particularly when it came to Meaava’s unrequited affections. 

“How was Nar Shaddaa? That noodle place still serving up that dish we liked?” Jonas asked casually. 

“Yeah, that dish wasn’t as good as you thought it was. I went back and tried it sober. Nasty stuff.”

Jonas smiled triumphantly and leaned in. 

“That place has been closed for a year, Theron. So, where were you really?” Jonas kept his voice low. 

Theron kept his tone light; still no reason to panic. There were a lot of terrible noodle shops on Nar Shaddaa.

“Huh, that’s odd. I guess I went to the wrong one—you know how the Promenade is. I did a bit of gambling, read some holonovels. Nothing exciting.” 

He pretended to focus on his work, hoping that Jonas would take the hint and leave. The move aggravated Jonas and the man dug his haunches more firmly into Theron’s desk.

“Really? Because I heard from more than one source that there was a large kerfuffle on Dromund Kaas. Something about two rogue agents and a messy slave uprising. Certainly sounds like your style.” Jonas fixed him with a pointed stare; then with a flourish seized the battered datapad and flicked it on. The screen flashed; it was open to Cipher Nine’s holo. Theron winced visibility; he was never going to hear the end of this. 

Jonas let out a low whistle as he studied the picture attached to the file. Theron reached to snatch the datapad away; Jonas kept it just out his reach and he brought the datapad closer to his face to admire the picture. 

“She’s pretty—if you like that type,” Jonas remarked in an off-handed way, his eyes shifted from the picture to Theron, to the picture and then back to Theron’s growing irritation with delight. “Who is she?” Jonas asked innocently. This was dangerous ground; if he was too gruff, Jonas would start asking questions he didn’t have an answer to. 

“She’s a...friend...not my type,” Theron replied slowly with a frown as his mouth stumbled over the word ‘friend’. Jonas smothered a knowing snort. 

“You don’t have any friends. Wait, you’ve got a type?” 

“Well, it’s definitely not: obnoxious field agents who stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.” With a firm push, Theron managed to get Jonas off of his desk and onto his feet. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Shan. As punishment we’re going out for whiskey—you’re buying. Come on, we’ve got to go.” 

“It’s not even lunchtime. Little early for a drink, isn’t it?” Theron asked as Jonas pulled him up out of his chair by the arm. 

“Trant wants to see us. Probably should have mentioned that first but you looked a little distracted.” 

Theron dug his feet into the ground and did his best to keep his face neutral.

“Did he say what he wanted?” He asked with a subtle swallow; his mind raced. Did Trant know about Dromund Kaas? Jonas wasn’t known for keeping his mouth shut, maybe he let it slip? Did Jonas even know about Dromund Kaas? His interrogation strategy was to make wild accusations about a person and then wait to see what would stick—maybe he was bluffing about the rumors. 

Jonas’ sharp eyes caught the shift in body language. They continued their conversation in a much lower tone. 

“ I think it has something to do with the war effort on Corellia. The intel reports from this morning were grim. Why, are you worried you’ll be demoted again?” 

“That’s part of it,” Theron replied with a worried voice; he was more concerned he would be executed for treason but Jonas didn’t need to know that. 

“Why did you get demoted, by the way? One minute you were wearing the shiny cross of whatever the Republic chooses to give the hero of the hour, and the next day you were working the desk again.” 

Theron’s eyes narrowed perceptively—Jonas was sifting through the ashes of what remained of Theron’s career to glean intel. 

“Who’s asking, Balkar the spy, or Balkar the supposed friend who hit me with a paralytic dart and left me lying naked in the Senate Plaza?” 

“Can’t a man be both?” Jonas asked, putting a hand to his chest as though he was mortally wounded. Theron favored him a small grin that faded back into worry. Observing the expression change, Jonas’ shoulders dropped, and he relented with his teasing and continued in a much gentler tone. 

“I’m asking as a friend. One minute you’re off saving the galaxy, the next you’re demoted and working at a desk. You take off with no explanation on this mystery “vacation,” and come back looking like hell...Oh, and your desk looks like the tragic wreckage of an accidental freighter explosion. What’s going on?” 

Theron’s chin dropped to his chest with a rueful smile and he clapped a hand to Jonas’ shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you over that drink I owe you.” 

They walked side by side thoughtfully into Trant’s spacious office. In the distance, Coruscant’s steady flow of traffic wove through the spires of a multitude of high rises that stretched into the stratosphere. 

Trant sat with his hands folded on his desk with a pinched expression. Theron knew the look well; his heart climbed into his throat. When the head of the SIS wore that particular expression, creases in the brow, eyes red from lack of sleep, heavy bags under his eyes, it was usually accompanied by a long list of sudden terminations and a foul temper. 

His mind raced; knew about Dromund Kaas, Theron was certain of it. Trant motioned for them to take a seat; Theron struggled to keep his face from mirroring his inner turmoil. He locked eyes with his boss; the expression was cool, calculated, observant. Theron sunk a little lower into his chair. The last time he was in this seat, it was the third time that he brought the Star Cabal to Trant’s attention. He diligence was rewarded with a three-month demotion for insubordination and ‘churlishness’. Oh, he wanted to tell Trant about his confirmed findings. The look on his face would be priceless—Theron’s mind gave a jolt. He reminded himself that he actively committed treason to gain that Intel. He pressed his lips together in silence. 

“What I’m about to tell you both is of the highest secrecy.” Trant began in a low voice.  
“Our war effort on Corellia is in shambles. We’ve been entrenched and flanked by Imperial forces for the past month. This week, we lost several of our bases to strategic bombings. Minimal casualties but our supply lines are broken.” Trant gave a heavy sigh, and fixed Theron and Jonas with a piercing stare, as though he held both of them accountable for the Empire’s actions. 

“You two, and I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth, are our last hope to staunch the bleeding.” Theron sat back in his chair, unable to contain his surprise. 

“I’m touched you’re such a fan of our work, Sir.” Jonas quipped with an irrepressible grin that Trant did not return. Theron took his boot and kicked Jonas forcefully. 

“We traced the attacks on our bases to this Imperial Agent.” Trant tapped into a data console. The data terminal revealed a blue-tinted holo that stopped Theron and Jonas in their tracks. 

The blood drained from his face; his hands gripped the arms of his chair. He ears heard nothing else but the echoing pulse of his own beating heart. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the frizzy-haired holo of Cipher Nine, who stared back at him with a familiar mocking curve of her lips. His ears registered an uncomfortable shift of posture from Jonas, and Theron knew without looking that Jonas recognized the holo from their earlier conversation. Trant paused, staring through the grainy holo, scrutinizing Theron’s expression in a way that made him uncomfortable. 

“Balkar, your mission is to find this agent, code name Cipher Nine, and terminate her activities, using whatever means you see fit. Shan, you’re to provide additional support to Supreme Commander Rand and our forces on the ground in Corellia, reports, data analysis, whatever they need. If we lose Corellia we lose the war.” 

He opened his mouth to protest the assignment; then shut it to ponder the circumstances. Odd, wasn’t it? The timing of the assignment coincided with his return from Dromund Kaas. He was being reinstated after only a week of his demotion only to be reassigned to assist with the assassination of the only other person in the galaxy who knew as much as he did about the Star Cabal. In fact, it was only after he brought the Star Cabal to the attention of his superiors that Teff’ith went missing, and his demotion occurred. Theron’s ears registered sound again with a snap; was he being paranoid? Trant was a loyal military man, a tried and trusted ally of the Republic. Surely, he wouldn’t be working with this crazed group of madmen? 

“We’ll see it done, Sir.” He heard Jonas say as he gave a half-hearted salute. Theron sat numbly in his chair. This was the moment that he was dreading; a deep-seated fear that plagued him since they made their goodbyes. The reason why he’d been waiting to compile his file about her. He knew the day would come when he would come across her file and see the kill order attached. It was foolish of him to hope that he wouldn’t be the one to pull the trigger. 

Jonas pulled at the shoulder of his jacket and pulled him up roughly by the seam. Theron made a move to object to the assignment; Jonas pulled him by the ear like a mischievous child out the door before he could speak. 

Once they were at a safe distance, Jonas rounded on him with a furious expression. 

“Theron Shan, what in the hell have you gotten us into?”


	2. Chapter 2

Glowing embers lit her path through the twisted metal of fallen wreckage. In the distance, there was an echo of anti-aircraft turrets and the whine of disabled engines as a falling ship streaked across the sky like a wayward comet. There was a silent pause, as though all of Corellia was holding its collective breath, then a huge ball of iridescent orange, yellow, and purple lit the night’s sky accompanied by a thundering explosion. Evie paused to mark its descent into the inky oblivion of night; Imperial class fighter, another night of heavy losses. 

Grimly, she activated her stealth generator and crept around the twisted hunks of glowing metal. Her footsteps were padded; she moved slowly, careful not to disturb wreckage or trip sensors. The wind blew the choking smoke and ash into her mouth. She didn’t dare to cough; in the distance, she counted six Republic patrols, one of which was heading straight for her. Her pulse increased to the tempo of the firing turrets; her eyes shifted right, left, and center for a possible escape route. The path was completely blocked by Republic sentries. Blinking, she took three steps back, her mind was blank. She was out of options; they’d capture her, and execute her on the spot. Panic seized her muscles and she gazed up to the sky as though to call upon the Force for assistance when her eyes spotted a solution. 

With a running leap, she repelled off a tall stack of supply crates, using her momentum to grasp a lower level wall. Her fingertips scraped at the edge of the wall, struggling to gain purchase. One hand clapped to the edge; every muscle in her body screamed and strained as little by little she pulled herself up onto the roof. Her shoulder gave a loud pop and burned with searing pain. She needed time in a kolto tank; the shoulder added to a long list of aggravated injuries that included two badly damaged ribs. She unleashed a soft groan as she caught her breath, and stared up into the night’s sky as she questioned her recent stream of increasingly erratic choices that led her to this roof, on top of a Republic base, in the middle of an active war zone, in the middle of the night. Her mind replayed her conversation with Lokin about her recent poor decision-making capabilities. 

“You’re going to steal data from a Republic base because a person in a mask suggested that it was a good idea,” Lokin repeated her plan back to her skeptically, with his palm resting against his face in tired disappointment. He added an Imperial ‘tut’ for good measure to emphasize his disapproval. 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Evie said with a dry, self-deprecating smile. Vector stood to her left in the corner of their small med bay on her ship. His hand was over his mouth, his face reflective as he stood deep in thought. 

To her right, Scorpio watched with keen interest as Lokin applied a kolto patch to Evie’s shoulder and added, with a voice that was dripping with delight:  
“If your strategy is to make it easier for the enemy to terminate your existence, proceed. I’ll try not to watch.” 

Lokin patted down the patch with a little more force than was necessary; Evie winced and jerked her shoulder away. 

“I suppose you have already considered that you are walking into a trap.” 

“Naturally,” Evie returned as she slipped off the operating table and onto her feet, hiding the stiffness of her ribs by pretending to stretch. 

“And I suppose that there’s nothing that we can do to stop you?” 

She scrunched up her face and pretended to consider the question playfully and shook her head.

“If I die Scorpio will get what she wants and you get one last opportunity to say ‘I told you so’ which is what you want. Frankly, I don’t see why you’re not more enthusiastic about the prospect.”

Lokin’s head dropped to his chest in defeat, the lines on his face creased with worry as the room fell into a heavy silence. Evie’s flippant smile slowly faded; her eyes surveyed the mood in the room. Lokin and Vector exchanged meaningful glances with each other; neither of them was able to meet her eyes. They stood in an uncomfortable semi-circle, all of them dancing around the words and emotions that none of them wanted to voice. 

“I’ll go with you,” Vector added in a quiet voice. 

“No.” Evie’s voice cut sharply through the silence. Her life was a moot point; every mission was quite possibly her last—she came to terms with her short-lived mortality the day she took on the designation of Cipher Nine. Death lurked over her shoulder like an invisible, ever-present specter. Her beloved crew, who fought by her side to bring her back from the brink of insanity, who stitched her up when she was injured, who endured the consequences of all her choices without complaint—did not deserve a fate as cruel as death. So long as she drew breath into her lungs, she would put herself into the line of fire on their behalf—she owed them that much. 

“No, I need your help with something else.” She amended in a more even tone. 

“Name it. I’ll see it done, Cipher.” 

She felt a surge of gratitude for Vector’s fealty; the calm dedication that he offered to her without so much as a moment’s hesitation. Most of her crew, herself included, were all the worst sort of people imaginable—Assassins, thieves, cold-hearted bastards who served themselves first, and others only when it suited their needs. Vector, in contrast, lived his life in the service of his hive and of Evie. She lacked the courage to ask him why and she suspected he preferred it that way. 

“I expect Kaylio will be quite cross with me by now for failing to rescue her. Find me a way into the Citadel. Leave the Star Cabal to me.” 

 

She brought her mind back to her present situation. Lokin was right; though if she lived she wasn’t ever going to allow him the satisfaction of knowing that. The sheer amount of Republic forces on the ground almost guaranteed that she was walking into a trap.  
Stiffly, she climbed back to her feet and oriented herself to her surroundings. Her quarry was a communications terminal in the northwest quadrant of the base. She pulled up the map on her bracers, searched for the clearest path, tugged her black mask over her face and set off across the rooftops. 

Finally, she reached the command center. The building and the surrounding areas were nearly empty, save for a few stray patrols that wandered aimlessly. At last, she found a stroke of luck. Capitalizing on the empty road, she made a leap for a synthwoven awning, tucked into a roll, and landed onto the ground in a crouch. No alarms, no sound of pounding feet. A half-smile crept to her lips; excitement surged through her veins—she would never tire of the thrill of the game. Calmly, she inserted a data spike into the control panel at the door. It gave a minuscule beep, and the doors slid open with a whoosh. Her smile grew wider—her mission to rescue Kaliyo on Dromund Kaas was an abysmal failure except for the pilfered data spike she’d inherited from her SIS accomplice by default—in the chaos that ensued during their rescue mission he loaned it to her and forgot to ask for it back. His negligence was her gain—with the help of his carefully programmed spike, she was able to do more than what her limited slicing abilities had previously denied her. 

Evie used her bracers to scan and disable the room sensors in the room. There were cameras everywhere; annoying but manageable. She gave another click to a different button on her bracers; the power to the building went dark, save for the emergency lighting that cast the room in a glow of soft orange floodlights, and the blue of the still active data terminals. Cautiously, she drew her blaster, crossing one foot over the other, listening for approaching patrols. There were no sounds in the room, except for the occasional muffled sound of her breathing against the mask. After several seconds ticked by, she disengaged her stealth generator and approached the terminal. 

She inserted the data spike again; the terminal flickered into darkness then hummed back to life. She unleashed a sigh of relief and set her blaster to the side. The masked figure’s instructions were clear: gather all the data about the Republic’s incursion on Corellia. Her fingers tapped at the keys with minimal hesitation; she spent her downtime between missions building a little of her slicing skills. Her work was faster now, she made encrypted copies of messages from the Republic Supreme Commander, noting that the additional reinforcements included a Jedi Master. In short, after only a cursory examination of the files, she concluded that the Empire was well and truly outgunned in every possible sense of the word. 

Inexplicably, the screen went black. Evie blinked and gave the keys a ginger tap of her finger. Nothing—no blink of blue, no hum of power. She tapped harder; still nothing.  
“Kriff,” She whispered to herself, giving the terminal a small frustrated kick with her boot. 

At her shoulder, she heard a small snort of laughter as the cold barrel of familiar blaster pressed into the grove of the base of her neck. Evie put her hands up but felt no fear as she slowly turned around in irritation, her eyes registering in the darkness, the smug, self-satisfied smile of Theron Shan. 

“We really have to stop meeting this way, Cipher,” He remarked as he pulled her hood off her head between finger and thumb. Evie crossed her arms at her chest and cocked her head to the side, her sharp eyes noted that he did not lower his blaster. 

“Agent Shan,” She returned cooly, wondering if her brainwashing was producing hallucinations again. 

“Having trouble with the data terminal?” He quizzed innocently as he put a finger to his bracer and gave it a small tap. Instantly, the terminal hummed back into life, in a flash of red and orange buttons. Evie’s expression dropped into an irritated scowl—he was decidedly not a figment of her imagination. 

“I don’t recall you mentioning that you had a mission on Corellia.” She shot back with a suspicious glare. 

His blaster was still trained on her; his index finger was glued to the trigger. She’d foolishly left hers sitting just out of reach on the console of the data terminal. There was no animosity between them but the mood was tense. Even in the dim light, her sharp eyes saw that his hands were trembling. Beads of perspiration lined his forehead and the muscle in his jaw, the tell-tale sign of the inner workings of his mind clenched and relaxed indecisively. Her eyes met his with a questioning frown.  
His eyes glimmered with regret, fear, and confusion, answering her unasked question. Her mouth slowly shaped into ‘oh’ with her epiphany; her mouth tilted upward with a limp smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“You’re here to kill me.” She didn’t understand why the cruel irony of it stung so bitterly. 

He looked like a beaten man; he didn’t attempt to deny it. His shoulders hung heavy in shame. 

“I traded another agent for the assignment. Thought the news would be better coming from a friend.” His voice shook as he said it, the blaster wavered but remained aimed at her head. 

“Friend?” Evie spat back in disbelief; he thought of this as a mercy mission. She unleashed a low acrimonious laugh that echoed in the empty room. “Was that your mission on Dromund Kaas? To lure me in, try to recruit me, and then spit me back out if I refused?” 

“Dromund Kaas was real, Evie.” He whispered her name, low, warm, and with genuine admiration. 

His use of her given name softened her posture. 

“Then why are you here?” She asked him. 

“I’m here to stop the Star Cabal. I can’t prove it, but I think they’re the ones that are manipulating the SIS into putting a hit on your life. I was hoping to sneak out tonight to try to find you so that I could warn you...I think the bigger question is why are you here?” 

Evie wrenched her eyes closed, not wanting to confess what brought her to this specific Republic base—she would never hear the end of it. 

“An anonymous source wearing a mask asked me to gather information here about the Republic forces.” She squeaked out rapidly, feeling the heat climbing to her cheeks as she said it. 

“An anonymous source wearing a mask...” He repeated sounding dubious. “Seems a little serendipitous, don’t you think?” 

“No more so than an SIS agent trading a mission so that he can save my life. Though I can’t help but notice that you still have your blaster out....” Her voice trailed off, eyeing the blaster and the man behind it with mistrust. 

“I have to make it look real for the cameras.” 

“I disabled them.” Evie protested, with a quick glance to the four corners of the room, she noticed the holo cameras were still blinking red.

“There’s a fail safe to prevent amateur slicers from disabling them.” He fought a grin as her expression darkened at the word ‘amateur’, and grew darker still on the word ‘slicer’. “They’ll record visual after they’re disabled but not sound.” 

Evie shot the cameras another furtive look as his cloaked meaning finally took shape. 

“You want me to attack you, I take it?” 

“No, I want you to kidnap me. It will buy us time to find the Star Cabal, it’s consistent with your character—“ She let out a scoff of protest but didn’t interrupt. “I’ve already drafted your ransom message; after some hemming and hawing the Republic will eventually negotiate for my release...” 

“I’ve never once asked for a ransom.” She protested hotly. 

“Fair enough, but my only options were to assassinate you or assassinate your character. I thought you would appreciate the latter.” 

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?” She asked him. 

“You don’t,” Theron admitted honestly and was surprised when her voice joined his. 

“We have to trust each other.” They finished together. 

“Remember Cipher, it has to look real.” He warned her slowly, looking as though he were mentally preparing himself for significant pain. 

“I need the data,” She said softly as she threw a glance to the data terminal. He tapped the side of his implants to indicate that it was already uploaded. He’d been quietly prepared for this from the beginning. 

She dove for her blaster and jumped out of the way as he fired shots into the data terminal. Sparks exploded through the room; the terminal went dark, leaving the eerie light of emergency floodlights. From her dive roll, she kicked her leg at his feet and swept him onto the floor on his back. He fell heavily with a loud thud and a groan. 

“I suppose I deserved that. Was it the slicing dig?” He muttered as he kicked his boot upward and sent her blaster flying. She pretended to reach for her knives and saw real fear in his eyes before he pretended to aim another kick at her gut and with she sent the knives flying with an exaggerated release. 

“It might have been the slicing dig.” She winced; their play-acting was aggravating her ribs but she didn’t dare stop. He slowly started to scoot backward. She grabbed him by the knee and with all her strength, pulled him back toward her, threw her knees on either side of his hips and sat with all her weight to hold him in place. He ceased his struggles; he stared at her with wide, petrified eyes.

“Dart, or punch to the face?” She whispered to him as she leaned over him. He didn’t fight her when she pinned both of his arms above his head with one arm, nor did he seem to be breathing. His eyes looked hazily unfocused, and he squeezed them closed as though making an effort to concentrate.

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it quickly.” He wheezed in a panicky voice. She shrugged and curled her hand into a fist. 

“Suit yourself.” She said cheerfully as she hit him across the jaw. He went very still, and his head went slack. Her hand reached for the second blaster in his holster and from where she was sitting, she fired four single shots, one per camera. They exploded into a dizzying array of fried circuits and sparks. 

Theron wrenched one eye opened and crooked a sardonic eyebrow up at her. 

“You could have shot the cameras before so that you didn’t have to punch me.” He pointed out in a strange hoarse voice that was unlike his normal tone. The rise and fall of his chest was labored and quick. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” She teased as she jammed his blaster back into his holster. “You said to make it look real...” 

She stopped abruptly as her eyes were drawn back to his face. It was not the exact same expression from a week ago when he reached out his thumb and traced her cheek but it was close. The lines around his eyes were soft, edges of the mouth quirked upward. He looked lost and unfocused, his sharp dark eyes made darker by the unreadable expressions that floated across his face. 

“Errr...not that I’m complaining but do you mind...” He cleared his throat delicately and directed his eyes to their precarious seating arrangement. 

Evie’s brows drew downward into a frown, and her eyes followed his pointed stare to where she was perched. Her eyes went wide and she scrambled to climb off of him, feeling a wave of embarrassment climb up to her scalp. A large part of her wanted to find her black mask, pull it back over her head to hide the steady flush of her cheeks. 

Unable to meet his eyes, she offered him her hand to help pull him off the floor and back onto his feet. He put a hand to his jaw and massaged it thoughtfully, furtively shooting glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one embarrassed by her overly enthusiastic acting. She made an effort to recover her blaster and her mask to pull her mind back to the task at hand. 

“If you’re coming with me, we’ll have to find you a disguise.” She pronounced finally when she found her voice again. She scrutinized his measurements with a narrow gaze. Her mind jolted to a halt and a singularly terrible, and at the same, inescapable idea. 

“Oh no,” She said aloud without meaning to. She squeezed her eyes shut; it was the only resource they had. 

“That doesn’t sound good.” 

“What’s your opinion on Rakghouls?” She asked slowly.

“Mixed to strongly opposed. Why?” 

“You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for leaving kudos or comments! I’m trying to learn more about writing so constructive feedback is appreciated too. 
> 
>  
> 
> PS—
> 
> How about that new Star Wars trailer?!


	3. Chapter 3

They approached a vessel in the spaceport hangar bay with sleek lines and pointed edges, streamlined and gleaming with polish. 

“That’s a Phantom X-70B.” He said with a breathless voice, unable to contain his envy. He surged forward in his excitement, forgetting everything else around him but the ship. The tech on the ship was rumored to be some of the most advanced in the galaxy, but no one in the Republic had ever seen one up close. He wished he could take it apart and make the ship reveal it’s secrets. The silver panels contained only rivets instead of welding lines to maintain sleeker aerodynamics. His fingertips traced the precise line of rivets, leaving a trail of dusty white fingerprints where he touched. He saw her reflection over his shoulder, sharing his admiration of her ship with a soft glow of pride. Tardily, he recalled his daydreams about the tech and used the edge of his jacket sleeve to wipe away the prints. 

“I take it this doesn’t come standard at the SIS?” She quipped, unable to resist the opportunity to take a swipe at his employer. Though he would never actually consider defecting, he did wonder momentarily what it would be like to work for an agency that was well-funded enough to send him out in equipment like this. 

“No, they don’t give us these but they do teach us how to slice.” He threw a sly sideways glance at her expecting to see her bristle as she usually did whenever he made a comment about her slicing. Instead, she tilted her head graciously his way to acknowledge the slight, with a wicked gleam in her eye that said he would pay for it later.

“Does she have a name?” 

“Yes; it’s Classified.” She replied with wry half-smile that spread into a dimple where her mouth met her cheek. 

When the play on words finally dawned on him he let out a small snort. 

“Very clever, Cipher.” 

She gave a small twirl of her hand and a mocking bow to him with the hint of a self-deprecating smile. 

As the ramp to the ship slowly lowered she turned to him abruptly and rested her hand unexpectedly on his arm. 

“I need a favor.” Her eyes darted nervously up the ramp to whatever awaited them inside the ship. 

“Okay...” He said slowly, his mind jumped nervously back to their previous conversation about Rakghouls, wondering where they factored into the ship’s manifest.

“When all of this is over, report anything you’d like to about me to your masters at the SIS.” She said slowly with a deadly serious expression. “But my people...for their safety, I’d like to ask that you keep their names out of whatever you submit. Now stay out of sight until I’ve had time to prepare them. They aren't used to having guests of your...caliber.” 

 

Their feet echoed up the ramp; the red wooden floor of the ship’s interior looked as though it was recently oiled, the white walls gleamed blindingly in the light from the recessed lighting. All around, he could see nothing but a beautifully crafted technological marvel. He almost ran his hands against the grainy wood paneling on the walls but stopped himself short. 

Evie paused in front of him and put a finger to her lips while she listened. There was a rumble of two male voices. 

“The song of the universe grows bright, the Agent has returned triumphant...” The voice trailed off as though the speaker was listening. “And she is not alone. There is a distinct fluttering of fluctuating pheromones in the air.” 

“What do you mean Evie isn’t alone, Vector?” The second voice demanded. There was a thump of boots against the wood. Theron shifted back into the shadows automatically. 

“Scared?” She turned; her lips parted into a shy half-smile.

“On the contrary, I’m intrigued. Where is the Rakghoul you mentioned?” 

She didn’t answer; she moved into the open sitting space in the middle of the ship and indicated with one hand behind her back that he should stay put. 

“Welcome back, Cipher. What manner of bedraggled stray have you adopted and taken under your wing today?” Lokin asked with crossed arms and lifted brow, he peered around her shoulder, she shifted to block his view. 

“This one followed me all the way from Dromund Kaas.” Her voice purred acerbically. He resented being compared to some sort of pet and suspected she was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of him; it was working. 

She motioned for him to come out of hiding from the shadows. Little by little, as he revealed himself, he watched as the older gentleman grew an increasingly alarming shade of scarlet. The other man, with the strangest black eyes he’d ever seen gripped the handle of a large, dangerous-looking vibrostaff. 

All at once the mood changed, blasters were drawn from holsters, the vibrostaff was raised to attack. Without thinking, Theron drew his blasters in response and Evie, with a vexed roll of her eyes, bravely jumped in the thick of it all as a shield in between two sets of blasters without a moment’s hesitation. 

“Wait, wait. He’s a friend.” She burst out, putting out her hands to dip the barrels of the blasters down toward the floor. 

“A friend? Is this or is this not the SIS agent who kidnapped you on Dromund Kaas?” Lokin demanded angrily. 

“Kidnapped is a strong word; It was technically more of a...” Theron started to protest; she shot him a furious look and he let the rest of the sentence die with a gulp. 

“He came here to warn me that the SIS is trying to kill me.” Evie explained defiantly, setting her shoulders in a stubborn stance. 

“We know that already.” Lokin shot back. “They nearly succeeded three months ago, or have you forgotten what they did to you?” 

Theron schooled his expression to appear neutral; the SIS tried to kill her? He supposed it came with the territory but he didn’t remember any sort of agency buzz about that particular mission. No wonder she was so concerned with protecting her ‘people’ as she called them. The room grew hushed; Evie’s posture grew very straight and he could see from his vantage point that she was clenching and unclenching her hand. She drew herself up to her full height, which brought her eyes precisely level to the older man’s chin with her eyes burning. 

“I need a word, in private, Doctor.” Her words came at the crisp, clipped pace of an Imperial who was doing everything in their power to keep their self-control intact. When the doctor didn’t immediately comply, she added a much lower and insistent: 

“Now.” 

The man that she called ‘Doctor’ followed her into what looked like to Theron was a separate room that had been converted into a medbay and shut the door. Despite himself, Theron let out a low whistle and then gave a startled jump. In all the excitement, he completely forgot about the existence of the other man in the room, who was approaching him cautiously with several blinks of his black, terrifying eyes. 

“We are Dawn Herald, emissary of the nest and member of the Diplomatic Service.” The man said, invading Theron’s space with a curious air. Theron did his best not to recoil—the eyes, or rather, the absence of human eyes, was deeply unsettling. Tardily, Theron realized that the sentence was meant as an introduction. He offered his hand to him politely. 

“Theron Shan, Republic SIS. Do I call you Dawn or Herald, or both?” 

“You can call us Vector if you’d like.” The man appeared to be listening to a frequency outside of the range of human hearing. He lifted his head up and listened; in the background, Theron could hear the muffled argument between Evie and her shipmate. 

“The song of the universe surrounds you and sings to us of your praises. You must forgive Dr. Lokin for his suspicions. You are not like the others...” Vector’s voice trailed off mysteriously as he appeared to be studying Theron again. 

“The others?” 

“The other SIS agents. Their aura was always shrouded in darkness. We regret that we didn’t mention that to her sooner; we might have saved her the agony...” Vector’s voice trailed off with regret at an unspoken memory that even with the absence of expression, Theron could see still caused him great pain. 

“What happened to her?” He prompted in a gentle voice. 

Vector started and appeared to recognize that he might have said too much. 

“That is not our story to share. Welcome, Theron Shan.” He offered his hand to Theron again to shake, then squeezed his hand with a painfully tight grasp and with a jerk, pulled him forward, and lowered his voice to a whisper that would have been ominous if it were not for Vector’s deceptively cheerful tone. 

“We do hope that the universe has not been misplaced it’s faith in you. We’ll be watching with great interest.” 

It was not a threat but he took the warning as it was intended, and gently flexed his sore hand with a thoughtful air after Vector released it. He wondered if it was the situation with the SIS that inspired their protective loyalty or the woman herself, and as he considered it further, he surmised that he already knew the answer. 

The door to the medbay slid open and Evie strode into the room with flushed cheeks and a harried expression that she was struggling to control. Dr. Lokin walked several paces behind looking browbeaten and undeniably cross. 

“Ah, good. I see you’ve met Vector.” She remarked as she smoothed a few curls away from her face as she drew a shaky breath to settle herself. 

“Dr. Lokin, this is Theron Shan.” Evie introduced, staring at Lokin with a pointed expression. Theron offered the doctor his hand and when the doctor did not immediately take it, Evie glowered at him sternly. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, the doctor relented, gave Theron’s hand a curt shake and immediately released it. 

“Theron Shan, meet my people. We’ll save your introduction to Scorpio for another time.” 

“I assume you brought him here for a very good reason, Evie. What do you need from us?” Lokin said with an unwavering gaze as he summed Theron up with his eyes and clearly found him wanting. 

“We need to borrow your old uniform.” 

 

Minutes later, they were rummaging through a tidy cabinet, or rather Evie was rummaging, he was admiring the spacious cabinets and the well-appointed bunks of the crew quarters wishing that his apartment on Coruscant was this luxurious. 

“I’m terribly sorry about Dr. Lokin. He’s always been a cantankerous coot but it’s always worse before the change.” She apologized over the shoulder as she withdrew the folded outline of a weathered uniform from a drawer. 

“The change....Wait, that’s the Rakghoul?!” He exclaimed his eyes widening in both alarm and wonder. 

“Shhhh, keep your voice down, he’ll hear you. You’re not supposed to know.” She urged him as she plopped the uniform into his arms unceremoniously. He looked at her, and then at the uniform. 

“What’s this?” He asked. 

“Your disguise. You’re a bit taller than the doctor but I don’t think it will make a difference. Put it on, I need to report back to my contact within the hour.” 

She turned back to the cabinet to dig for something else, he excused himself to a corner and slid his jacket off his shoulders. 

“So, you know I have questions, right?” He called over his shoulder as he set about undoing the meticulously stitched buttons of the uniform. 

“It’s a uniform, Theron. I don’t have time to explain to you how to put it on.” 

Ah, there it was; his slicing slight was now repaid twice over. He ignored the jab and continued. 

“Will you allow me five questions?” He pulled his own shirt off his head; there was a sharp thud of something heavy against the wood floor and a small stifled gasp at his back. He stopped and turned; Evie was holding onto one boot in her hand, gaping at him with an expression that was half audaciously curious, and half unreadably blank. Her mouth twisted into a baffled half-smirk as she scrambled to retrieve the fallen boot and turned around to give him privacy. 

“You get three questions and I reserve the right to redact things as classified. Also, with your permission, I get to ask three questions of my own.” Her voice sounded shaky at first but slowly regained its fluid control. 

“Deal.” He said with a grin. He relished the opportunity to satisfy his overwhelming curiosity. His mind burned with the unanswered questions that plagued his mind unrepentantly since Dromund Kaas. “You go first.” 

 

“Your file made for some interesting reading.” She began eagerly; evidently, he was not the only one with questions. “Is it true that you were naked when you destroyed the Ascendant Spear?” 

“Half naked,” He corrected with a frown. “That was one of your questions?” 

“No, my question is: do you make it a habit of removing your clothing in front of all the strangers you meet or is this part of your SIS tactical training?” She was smothering a laugh as she spoke and turned to dig through the drawers again in search of another quarry. 

It was both a gentle rebuke and it wasn’t. In hindsight, he should have left the room to change but he was so oddly at ease in her presence that it didn’t cross his mind. He flagged the mistake and filed it away to grapple with it later. For now, there was a quiet battle of wits between them, and he wouldn’t allow her to have the upper hand for long. 

“I find it creates tactical advantage. The enemy can’t anticipate my next move if they can’t stop staring...” 

She blanched; from where he stood, he could see a slow flush creep up her neck and into her hairline. He grinned smugly to himself; advantage Theron. 

He finished the buttons to the jacket and gave the lapels a smart tug. The fit wasn’t bad; he could move in it easily without tearing the fabric. It unnerved him that she knew it would fit; was she an exceptional tailor or was she really so adept at observing his secrets? What else did her sharp eyes see?

“That counts as one of your questions, by the way. So, what do you think, Cipher?” He stood up straighter for inspection and awaited her approval once she dared to give him a glance. 

She studied the fit with a clinical eye; her gaze was narrowed, brows and mouth drawn tight in study. She walked around him, gave the sleeves of the jacket a tug then without warning her hands ran across the seams of the shoulders to smooth out wrinkles. Her fingertips brushed the back of his neck accidentally as she worked; an electric thrill shot down his spine. 

“Yes, that will do.” She circled back around to face him again. Her voice was low and her eyes darted from the floor to the uniform and then back to the floor again shyly. She held up a box with a small Imperial insignia on the front. 

“Finishing touch.” She murmured as the box clicked open and revealed a small gold medal attached to a crimson ribbon. 

“Do I get to ask a question now?” He asked as her slender fingers worked to unclasp the pin. 

He needed a distraction; she was standing dangerously close again. Her fingertips caressed his chest, searching for an excess of fabric to pin the medal too. He was undone; his pulse was racing at the same pace it did earlier when she pinned him to the floor. The room felt uncomfortably warm and the collar of the uniform pinched his neck. His mind flashed to the sight of her face hovering over his, the way that a few strands of curls had fallen free from her braid and drifted over his face as she pushed both his arms above his head. 

“What is your question?” She asked him with a steady tone and a cool demeanor that indicated focus. It brought his mind back from the brink of indecency. He recognized that this was an opportunity to ask the human personification of armored shielding anything he wanted and that she might allow herself to answer. He immediately wanted to ask about the SIS but he saw an opening for a quip and couldn’t resist the urge to repay her for teasing him about the Ascendant Spear. 

“Cipher, what exactly are fluctuating pheromones?” He asked innocently at the exact moment that she pushed the pin into the fabric. Her hand slipped in distraction. The pin sank into a large portion of fabric and a small section of his tender flesh. He yelped in pain and tilted his head back to see if the injury was intentional. Her eyes were wide at his question; her cheeks were pink again. It was worth the injury to disrupt her ordinarily unflappable poise. She tried the pin again as she collected her thoughts. 

“Vector is part Killik joiner. From what he’s told me, he can sense when humans give off some sort of chemical during moments of extreme emotion, fear, sadness, joy, or...attraction.” Her voice trailed off as she swallowed hard; the medal was set and gleamed at the edge of his chest. Her eyes lifted up to his face and she studied the slowly spreading grin on his face. She took a step away from him and her face clouded into irritation. 

“You already knew that...” 

“You shouldn’t have read my file.” A pair of boots was shoved into his stomach; he grinned cheekily as he sat to pull them on. 

There was, however, one question above all the others and he couldn’t resist the urge to ask it.

“I’ll trade all my other questions in exchange for an answer to one...What happened with the SIS three months ago?” 

She was folding his jacket neatly over the crook of her arm. Her work stilled; her posture went rigid and her face flashed pain before it settled into placid stillness. 

“Classified,” She murmured softly with a firm shake of her head. Her skin was pale and taunt; her eyes looked hollow and lifeless. Whatever happened, he did not relish the change in her demeanor and vowed to himself never to bring it up again. She gently handed him the jacket and hesitantly spoke, looking faintly nauseated as she did. 

“Some events are lived, others are survived, and a small handful are never shared except with those that have earned their clearance.”

“I hope one day that I will.” He replied sincerely. 

At that moment, Dr. Lokin strode into the room looking distinctly uncomfortable. 

“There’s an incoming holocall for you. Prepare yourself, Evie—it’s Hunter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! This chapter got away from me. Hopefully it doesn’t ramble too much. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

The world moved around her in slow motion; her heart thundered in her ears. Vaguely, she was aware that her feet were pulling her down the ship’s corridor and toward the holoterminal. Sound entered and left her ears like it was filtered through a thick fog. 

To her right, she heard Vector at her elbow. 

“Agent, are you well?” His voice echoed in her ears. Her lungs were burning for air; she urged her feet onward despite it. She approached the holoterminal like it was a gallows. Hunter’s voice haunted her in moments of stillness when she could not escape the sound with her work. She heard his snide laugh reverberate in her skull. Her hands gripped the edge of the terminal and she closed her eyes, surrendering to memory. 

The festering bogs of Quesh swam into view; noxious odors permeated her nostrils and her head ached from the stench. She lingered outside the factory, willing her body not to re-live the scene again. Unable to fight it, her memory jumped to another location—shimmering heat from a factory machine radiated from the ground while billowing clouds of steam rose through the air like mist. Through the haze, a glimmering blue light extinguished with a low hum and there was a low moan of anguished pain. 

Hunter appeared like a shadowy wraith from the rising steam, sinister and radiating with malicious intent.

“You have your orders, Legate. Pull the trigger.” The glowing red light emanating from the factory fires cast his skin with a devilish light. 

Ardun Kothe was on his knees in front of her; a blaster wound oozed thick blood down his side. The former Jedi wheezed, eyes turned to her with a look that pleaded for her to end his suffering. He exploited her mind for the ‘greater good’ of the Republic without thought to consequence or conscience. He deserved to die, the Empire would gain the Shadow Arsenal, and her successful efforts to reverse her brainwashing would remain a well-hidden secret from her enemies. Rage coursed through her veins; she didn’t owe Kothe her mercy to satisfy her guilty conscience, yet she hesitated. The logical course of action was to quickly dispatch him then turn her blaster on Hunter. It was a lovely bookend; an unexpected twist of revenge against the two men who destroyed her mind with one odious word. 

Kothe’s breath hitched in his chest. Her blaster shook in her hand; a small voice in her head whispered an empathic ‘no.’ It was her mother’s voice, which came to her often during a crisis of conscience. She locked eyes with Kothe’s vibrant blue despondent eyes. 

“There is no good or evil, little spy,” Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. “There are choices and the consequences that come with them. What can you live with?”

Her blaster swung from Koth’s head to Hunter’s and with a furious snarl she whispered:

“I’ll be your pawn no longer.” 

Hunter’s calculating smile spread further up his face.

“You broke free from your brainwashing—I warned you there would be consequences if you disobeyed...” She fired at him with her blaster, diving behind a row of crates for cover. A blast ricocheted off the edge of the crate and pain seared her right shoulder. A burning tingle shot up her arm as the warm blood trickled down. She clasped her hand to it to stem the bloody tide and positioned herself behind the crates to track his progress. 

“You may have taken the game, but what will you do when I destroy the board?” 

Hunter turned sharply and discharged his blaster into a nearby control panel. Ardun Kothe disappeared behind a red force field. Overhead the intruder alarm screamed; turrets sprang into action. 

“No!” She screamed, rushing out of cover. Hunter seized her wounded arm and dug his fingers into the blistering flesh. Her body seized and writhed in agony as she unleashed a primal howl of fury, fighting to pull her arm free to prevent an inescapable tragedy. 

There was a flash of red blaster fire, Ardun Kothe fell to the ground face first, his corpse scorched with blaster burns. Evie’s knees gave out; she dropped to the ground with her hands pressed over her mouth to suppress a silent scream. Hunter lunged; his fingers tore at her scalp while they grasped a fist full of her curls. He pulled her head away from her chest with a sharp jerk. 

“Look at it, Cipher. His blood is on your hands now, just like all the others.” He kept his grasp so tight that even as she fought she couldn’t look away. Kothe’s face was twisted and frozen with regret and the anguish of his final moments. Slowly, her body began to tremble; not from fear but from unadulterated feral fury. Her face hardened into a blazing expression of sheer defiance as she pulled her head back and spat in his face. 

“My hands are clean; my conscience is clear. I will not bear responsibility for your actions.” 

“You won’t have a choice.” He swung his arm, the blunt end of a blaster made contact with her skull, and her world swirled into darkness. 

 

She drew a trembling breath and waited to speak until she knew she could trust her voice. When the words came, they were dark and low. 

“I’ll take the call in the conference room, alone.” Little by little she relinquished her grip on the terminal. Quesh faded to the recesses of her memory; three solemn faces stared at her expectantly, each face grave with concern. Shame tore through her; she’d revealed too much of her fear.

“We won’t let you face that monster without us.” Vector insisted calmly as he settled his hands reassuringly shoulders. Evie shook her head firmly and put distance between them, fixing each man in the room with a determined pass of her eyes. 

“He doesn’t know who you are. If he sees your faces, you’ll share the same fate as Kaliyo.” 

Lokin was curiously silent; she knew from the shadow that passed over his face that he’d come to the same uncomfortable conclusion. 

“I’ll take the call with you.” Theron said quietly from the corner. His shoulder was pressed against the wall, his arms were crossed at his chest. The body language was a sharp contrast to his rapt and resolute expression. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“There’s a minimal risk; he already knows my identity and has failed to kill me twice. If you can keep him talking, I can try to trace the signal. With any luck, it might give us a lead on his location. Of course, I’ll understand if you’d rather work alone.” Theron pushed himself away from the corner while he spoke, his movements suggested that his choice was already made. 

The proposal was air tight, logical, helpful even; yet she hedged. There were already five complications on her roster; five shipmates whose well-being she considered and worried about with every choice she made. Her mental manifest didn’t have the capacity to include a sixth person to her roster. Yet, he was so quick to accept this danger on her behalf that she was inclined to add his name to their number by default. Reluctantly, she tabled her debate for later. 

She looked to Vector and Lokin, her two most loyal champions. Lokin’s features brightened significantly at the proposal; he looked at Theron with new found respect and quietly mouthed ‘thank you’ to him when he thought she wasn’t looking. Vector appeared to be listening to and absorbing the sights and scents in the room. 

“Do what you can to trace the call and try to stay out of his path.” 

 

They stepped into the conference room. Theron busied himself with the control panel, entering commands with a brow lined heavily with concentration. She drew a long steadying breath and steeled her mind for the impending assault. 

“Ready.” His eyes focused on the consul, his jaw muscle was tight and twitching. She nodded; he tapped a key and the call was open. Hunter appeared in brilliant blue, his hands clasped behind his back, his familiar superior smirk lined his features. 

“You took your time, Cipher. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t take my call.” He began in his icy tone. Evie’s features tightened at the sound of his voice; it choked her, made her stomach twist into knots but she would be damned before she gave Hunter the satisfaction of seeing her fear again. She structured her face until it was as immovable as stone. 

“I tire of your games. What do you want?” She bypassed all civility with a curt clipped tone. 

“Surely that isn’t the way you treat an old friend, after all we’ve been through together. I’ve missed our little chats.” 

To her left, she saw Theron make a small circle with his finger; she needed to keep Hunter talking. The movement caught his attention and he swiveled his head in Theron’s direction. 

“Well, well. This is wholly unexpected. Agent Shan, it appears your fall of grace from the SIS has pushed you into the willing arms of the Empire. What a shame you didn’t heed my warnings.” Hunter gloated gleefully, his reptilian eyes darted darkly between Evie and Theron. “Did you like what I did to your Twi’lek friend?” Theron stiffened viscerally, baited into a near response. 

“I don’t think you called to reminisce about old times.” She interjected quickly in an effort to keep Hunter’s focus solely on her. 

“You know me so well, Legate.” Hunter crooned as though he were speaking to a lover. Evie stilled; she knew the tone. Whatever was coming next would be something unpleasant. His tone always softened right before he revealed his dangerous fangs. 

“I thought you would like to know that Kaliyo has been keeping me company...” His voice trailed off as he brought his fingertips up to his eyes and studied his cuticles dangerously. The blood drained from her face, her breath came in shallow spurts. 

“I’ve been considering experimenting with her mind. One word from us and she slips into that blissful state you know and remember so well.” 

“This is between us, Hunter. Leave Kaliyo out of it.” Evie shot back quickly; it was a fate worse than death, far worse than being tortured by the Sith. 

“Of course, all of this could go away if you would agree to cease your meddling in our affairs.” 

Her eyes latched on to the slight nervous twitch of his upper lip. Evie crossed her arms, and tilted her head to study him, saw the dampness of his hairline, the shifting glances—he was lying. He was counting on her deeply seeded fear to keep her distracted. Her eyes remained fixed on the data terminal as a slow realization sank in; Hunter, her phantom tormentor, a man who made her existence a living nightmare was afraid of her. He was sent to bully her into ceasing her inquiry. It might have worked, had it not been for her mysterious masked ally, and the man who stood at her left. Heavy relief crashed down on her shoulders like a wave and her knees almost sagged with gratitude. The tight vice around her heart relaxed; she seized on her opportunity for power and exploited her opponent’s weakness. Her mouth tilted up into a sly half-smirk and she turned to Theron with breezy confidence and addressed him as though the room was empty. 

“What do you think, Agent Shan? Should we stop our meddling? I would hate to inconvenience him further.” Her voice contained a playful lilt as she spoke. Theron’s eyes widened; he peered at her with a baffled expression at the inexplicable change in her demeanor. There was a slow beat; she posed her face away from the terminal and mouthed the word ‘lying’ to him. Theron mouthed the word ‘interesting’ back to her with mischievous wonder glinting in his eyes. He turned and faced the holo, adopting a more conversational tone while he pretended to seriously consider her question. 

“No, I don’t think we can stop. I recently made the commitment to double the amount of time I spend meddling.” His eyes darted to where Hunter stood gaping at them in shock. 

“My new counterpart says no to your request and I’m inclined to agree.” Her tone was almost giddy, free of concern or fear of suffering. “We will never stop meddling in your affairs until we leave you weeping, begging for mercy, or until you are dead.” 

“I’d prefer the latter, myself.” Theron murmured loud enough for Hunter to hear. 

“I should have slit your throat on Quesh.” Hunter snarled at her viciously. “The Star Cabal will destroy the galaxy; everything you fear to lose will be taken from you piece by piece. Watch over your shoulder Cipher; we’re coming for you.” 

The call faded to black; Theron’s fingers flew over the keys at a breakneck pace. 

“The trace went as far as Coronet City. It’s not an exact location, but it’s a start.” 

He leaned his palms against the conference room table, his eyes lined heavy with worry.

“You’re worried about Teff’ith.” 

“No, she’s not the one I’m worried about. They’ll never find her again and if they did they’ll wish they hadn’t.” He smiled a little as he spoke and pulled himself out of his solemn revelries. 

Her rash, impulsive choice to provoke Hunter’s anger would bear consequences and her newly minted crew member, she decided to add him to their roster, would bear some of the brunt of her decision. She wondered if there were other people in his life that would suffer as a result of her choices and she chided herself for not taking that into consideration. 

“I painted a target on your back.” She acknowledged her mistake with a tired sort of smile and he shook his head.

“It was already there; you just made it bigger.” He moved away from the terminal with a determined expression. “What’s our next move, Cipher?” 

“We meet with my contact; if that doesn’t bear fruit we tear Coronet City apart and hope that we find Hunter before he finds us.” He made a move to leave the conference room; she lightly rested her hand on his arm. 

“Thank you...for your help...” She managed to get the sentence out; gratitude, emotional displays were not her way. He too appeared to struggle with choosing the right words. His lips changed shape with different responses until, with a soft smile, he leaned toward her and murmured in a warm voice: 

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for leaving feedback!


	5. Chapter 5

They traveled on foot to the Lord Razer’s base as the first rays of dawn’s light broke over the city, revealing a path of chaotic destruction, scattered remnants of duracrete, and more than one fallen soldier. In the distance, a child shrieked and wailed inconsolably but soon fell silent as a formation of bombers unleashed their payload. Dark plumes billowed into the sky; there was a groan of metal, the ground shook and a building disappeared from the city skyline. Evie and Theron took shelter behind a nearby barricade, waiting and listening for a reprieve as the ground trembled with each merciless strike. Neither of them acknowledged the loses, each afraid to disrupt the fragile alliance between them that stood in stark contrast to bitter reality. 

“Say it again,” She murmured to him softly once the fighting died down and they were able to travel more freely. 

“Agent Olivier, reporting for duty.” 

She cringed like his words were made of millions of tiny knives that were each stabbing and offending her delicate ears. 

“What was wrong with that?” He demanded in frustration. 

“Everything.” 

They spent the past quarter of an hour in exactly this manner. She insisted the elocution lessons were necessary to ‘keep him alive’ as she put it. He was convinced that she was doing it as part of her effort to repay him for earlier slights.

“I’ve infiltrated Imperial bases with that accent without any problems.” 

“None of those bases were filled with Imperial Operatives. Say ‘Olivier’ like that once and our snipers will put you down before you can butcher the ‘r’ sound. Try it again; your resonance is too far back. You sound like you’re a farmer from the Outer Rim.” 

He fixed her with an irritated stare, dropped his shoulders in defeat and tried it again. 

“Agent Olivier, reporting for duty.” 

This time her face brightened with approval. 

“Well done. Try the ‘tut’ again.” 

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, arranging his face in an exact replica of the condescending glare she gave him whenever she made the noise. 

“You’re not using the right inflection. Click like that with your tongue again and you’re more likely to summon a herd of Nerfs from a field than you are to fool an Imperial Agent. Perhaps we should pretend that you come from a planet that doesn’t speak Basic.” 

He favored her with a sour look that was one-third feigned to earn one of her peculiar smiles, one-third genuine frustration at not being able to hear the difference in the sounds, and one-third irritation that she had him verbally backed into the corner and tongue-tied all morning. 

“I’m starting to think that Imps don’t speak Basic.” 

“No, we speak Basic correctly.” She smothered laugh at his indignant response.

They lapsed into silence as they passed by a wandering Imperial patrol. His posture straightened; he assumed the facial expression he saw on every Imperial above the rank of Cadet. It was a downturned mouth, and hooded eyes, accompanied with a slight twisting curl of the upper lip. 

“Lieutenants.” He said with a crisp, well-placed ‘t’. They saluted smartly as they passed. 

Theron shot her a smugly triumphant look and she acknowledged his success with a queenly incline of her head. 

“How do you remember all the rules? Long ‘a’ vowel this, short ‘e’ sound that. Do you run every word you say through all of the rules before you say it or are you all born that stuffy?” 

“I wasn’t born an Imperial. I remember the rules because it was far too dangerous not to. And if I may be so bold, you ought to filter more of what you say through the rules before you say it.” She redirected their path through a pedestrian tunnel; their heavy boots echoed through the empty corridor. 

“Where were you born?” The question slipped innocently out of his mouth before he could prevent it. He grimaced, waiting for her acerbic wit to cut him down to size, a firm dressing down for crossing the strict boundary line between them. 

There was an uncomfortable, over-long pause. Her head dropped to her chest with a self-effacing smile, her face was bathed in the salmon-tinted glow of the early morning light as they exited the tunnel. The sight caught his attention and he struggled to tear his eyes away. He would have described it as pretty if there was time (there wasn’t) to allow his mind to venture into that dangerous territory. 

“I was born on Alderaan. My family worked in the kitchens for House Thul.” 

His mind jumped to the night when she revealed that her parents were informants for the Republic, and he connected these new pieces of intel with the old. He stored it away in the mental file he sardonically dubbed if solely for his own entertainment: the curiously redacted files of Cipher Nine. The file contained minimal information; he knew from observation that she was right-handed, that she was a former servant turned slave, that overt displays of emotions made her uncomfortable, and that she had the strangest crew of miscreants he’d ever met. Beyond that, the file was frustratingly empty and awaiting further exploration. 

“Why so curious?” Her eyes scrutinized his face; he swallowed uncomfortably. 

More than once in their short time together on Corellia he asked himself the same question. After Dromund Kaas, the burning questions were justifiable; he was compiling a file about her on behalf of the SIS. Now, there was a shrouded cloud of mystery around his motivations that he didn’t have the courage to delve into. He didn’t understand the long list of questions he wanted to ask or what it was about her that made his heart race every time she accidentally crossed into his space.

“I haven’t finished asking the last of my three questions.” He managed nimbly after a short pause. 

“Three? You told me that you would give up your other questions if I answered one.” 

“You exercised your veto; I asked you about pheromones. Therefore, I still have one question left. You were the one that made the rules, Cipher.”

Her mouth dropped open to argue the point, then audibly clicked it shut. 

He struggled to narrow down his questions. Her business with the SIS was off limits and it was too impertinent to ask her about the nature of her friendship with Vector. He didn’t know why that question made the list or why it ranked as one of his top contenders. He settled on an interrogation tactic instead; gain trust by asking the easiest question first. 

“Do you miss it? Alderaan I mean.” 

“It was so long ago, I hardly remember...” Her answer was a knee-jerk stock response, automatic and generic. He gave similar responses to anyone who asked dangerous questions about his childhood. Disappointment surged through him; he supposed the response was fair. Then, and not for the first time in their short acquaintance, she surprised him. 

“I miss it.” 

The confession was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it. She spoke in a guilty rush, as though the act of admitting this one seemingly innocuous personal detail violated some unspoken code of conduct. He didn’t dare to interrupt or ask other questions; he savored this brief moment of trust between them. 

“I’ll always think of it as home. I miss the mountains in the summer. On our off days, we would go with the other servants on a picnic and spend the day in the fields. I miss the freedom we had; we would run around and explore caves together.” 

Another question brimmed at his lips and with a slow exhale he bashfully revealed it. 

“We? So...does that mean there’s someone special waiting for you at home?” He stammered with an uncomfortable cough. “You know, like cousins, friendly neighbors, boyfriends, long lost nephews...” 

“There’s nothing left for me on Alderaan.” She answered coyly with a quickly fading smile that morphed into realization. “And that was more than one question.” 

“Was it? I lost count.” He said, feigning surprise. 

“You tricked me.”

“I’m a spy.” 

Her face twisted from a saucy retort to horror; both her hands seized him roughly by the shoulders and pushed him down to the ground. A streak of green blaster fire struck a hairbreadth away from where he was standing. Two assassin droids appeared from the shadows of buildings, their blasters drawn. The first droid charged at Evie from behind; she anticipated the attack and with a swing of her knife slashed backward; there was a spray of gear oil and a flash of severed circuits. The droid fell to the ground without a sound. 

The second droid wielded a long, dangerous looking vibroknife that hummed with malicious intent. It swung at her; she dodged left, right, and under the knife, managing to narrowly avoid a slice to her neck with a jab of her own knife to its soft underbelly. The droid countered the blow with a sharp upper cut of its blaster butt. The sound echoed with a sickening crack; Evie staggered backward dazed, leaving her torso temporarily open to attack. The droid lunged at her to drive the knife into her heart; Theron frantically grabbed his blaster and fired a single shot from the ground at the droids head. It gave shrieking whine, there was a whirl of circuits, it fell with a metallic clatter. 

She drew a shaky breath as she stared at the vibroknife that would have been her demise, her skin tinged with gray. Blood dripped from a gash above her eye; she dabbed at it with her sleeve. Theron scrambled to his feet and knelt to examine the droids more closely. His implants did a cursory examination of the programming and he added a scan of the area for any additional assailants. 

“These were re-programmed two hours ago. Someone wants us dead. I’ll give you three guesses as to who.” 

“He nearly succeeded. We should hurry. The base isn’t far—we’ll be safer there.” 

 

The base was eerily quiet; red Imperial banners lay torn to shreds on the ground. The air was thick with the heavy scent of blood. Imperial and Republic soldiers lay in mass, lifeless and shattered by thermal detonators. Theron stopped; two of the bodies were singed with lightsaber wounds. He exchanged a dark look with Evie. She brought her blaster up at an angle, her face alert and pulled taunt with anxiety. With two fingers, she indicated that she would take point. He nodded, falling back to cover her lead.

As they entered the command center, the carnage grew more gruesome; severed limbs, splatters of blood painted the once white walls, the entrails of a commander were strewn across the floor for all to see. Theron’s stomach turned; even Evie, with her nerves made of immovable glacial ice, appeared shaken and a little green. She approached a data terminal and stowed her blaster with a grimace. 

“Lord Razer’s dead.” She called over her shoulder, examining both his body and the fallen form of a Jedi that lay only a few paces away. 

“What happened here? Ambush?” Theron asked, thinking aloud. 

“Massacre. They were all out for blood.” She busied herself with the data terminal, keeping her eyes away from the appalling slaughter. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Contacting my source, if they’re still alive.” 

The data terminal brought up the image of a figure, dressed in solid black, wearing a strange helmet with a blast shield, cloaking the figure with an air of ominous mystery. 

“Cipher Nine, did you retrieve the data from the Republic base?” The disembodied voice asked. Evie crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side with a shrewd gaze. 

“Yes, but before we go any further, I want assurances. Reveal who you really are and I’ll share my data, otherwise, I walk away.” 

There was a brief pause; the masked figure pulled off the helmet. Evie recoiled and gasped audibly. Theron stared at the holoprojection, where the masked figure revealed herself to be a woman, not much older than Evie with dark eyes that projected strength and confidence. 

“Keeper.” Evie breathed, looking as though she was unable to trust her eyes. 

“Hello, Cipher. It’s good to see you again.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I thought you were dead.” Evie drank in the sight of Keeper’s face eagerly; absorbing every detail of the friend she thought she lost. 

“They attacked my mind, but could not kill my spirit; we have that in common now, I suspect. However, time is of the essence if we’re going to stop the Star Cabal and it appears we have a guest.” Keeper stared pointedly at Theron, who was doing his best to blend into the shadows.

“Keeper, this is Theron Shan, of the Republic SIS.” 

A tense silence fell over the room; no one spoke for several minutes. Evie watched as Keeper mentally calculated the variables and risk factors of Theron’s presence. 

“It looks like you got into a scuffle, Cipher.” Keeper turned her eyes back to Evie, eyeing the oozing cut above her eye with unwavering with concern. “Might I ask what blaster you used for your most recent mission?” 

It was their duress signal, a necessary evil after Evie’s previous encounter with the SIS. They developed it together, tailored it so that the responses would appear natural. Evie titled her head, indicating that she was listening; Keeper’s coded message was received. 

“I used my E-5 carbine.” 

Keeper’s shoulders dropped several inches in relief at the ‘all clear’ signal.

“Have you thought about oiling the stock. You might not be able to retract it if you don’t.” 

Ah, Keeper was making her reservations known. This was decidedly not part of the duress code they developed. She gleaned that Keeper was less displeased about the collaboration and more about the wisdom of allowing an SIS Agent to be privy to classified Imperial procedures and bases. 

“In my defense, I wasn’t aware we were given stock oil.” 

Theron, whose head was twisting on his neck back and forth between Evie and Keeper during the exchange politely cleared his throat to interrupt. 

“I may not speak Basic correctly,” He paused to shoot Evie a knavish look. “But I do know a poorly worded code when I hear it. To answer your question, I’m committed to stopping the Star Cabal. If that means I neglect to submit a few details on my final reports, so be it.” 

“Stars and galaxies,” Keeper blinked myopically at Theron. “He has a brain and can use it. I didn’t think that was a possibility in an SIS Agent.” 

“He also has ears and can hear insults, in case you wondering.” 

Evie’s composure slipped; her lips trembled into a light snicker. She admired his wit; his self-possessed ability to give as well as he got. 

“I think you’ll find that Agent Shan is a fellow pragmatist and a man of his word,” Evie interjected, seeing that Keeper still required persuasion. 

To an outsider, these scant crumbs of praise were modest at best but when they were spoken from one tight-lipped Imperial to another this was a glowing recommendation, a veritable sonnet in tribute to his character. Keeper absorbed the information with a solemn nod.

“That’s high praise coming from you, Cipher.” Keeper delved straight into the heart of the matter, as was her way, and did not pause to consider the ramifications of asking her next delicate query in front of the man in question. “Do you trust him?” 

There were three people in the whole of the galaxy that she trusted implicitly; depending on the day, she could occasionally count Kaliyo in that number as a fourth when their objectives aligned. Did she trust him? The question forced her eyes to search his for answers. His eyes grew more solemn as the seconds ticked by. His posture sunk lower like he was steeling himself for her inevitable rejection. He looked like a desperate man waiting for absolution. Her heart stitched with an unusual ache. All at once fear and elation flowed through her in a moment of agonizing realization. 

“I trust him with my life.” 

Theron’s eyes rose from despair to confusion, to euphoria as he offered her his silent gratitude. The twinge in her heart grew stronger. 

“It’s an interesting choice, Cipher and you will face consequences from the Minister if or when he finds out...However, your unconventional methods have yielded results in the past so I am willing to defer to your judgment. I hope we won’t live to regret it.” 

“Your objections are duly noted. We retrieved the data from the Republic base, what exactly are we looking at?” 

 

“In summary,” Keeper concluded with a weary sigh. “If events escalate in the same fashion, by my calculations, Jedi and Sith forces on Corellia will annihilate each other in their entirety in the next 36 standard hours.” 

Evie cast an uneasy glance around the room. They had less than two days to prevent a cataclysmic loss of life. 

“I suspect the Star Cabal is manipulating the data. Our initial reconnaissance reports pegged Republic numbers in the triple digits yet as Lord Razer discovered and your data supports that their numbers are somewhere in the thousands. Someone edited the reports before submitting them.” 

“They’ve started a war of escalation. How do we stop it?” Theron asked quietly. 

“Until we can concretely prove the Star Cabal’s interference with the data, we have no way of convincing our superiors to call a cease-fire. It’s the perfect plan.” 

“You mean, it was the perfect plan,” Keeper continued uneasily. “I might have a way to force Republic and Imperial forces to withdraw. The plan is risky and it could very well cost you your life, Cipher.” 

“It wouldn’t be your plan if it didn’t include at least one of those features,” Evie replied with a wan smile. Keeper did not look amused at her attempt at levity. “What did you have in mind?” 

“We beat the Star Cabal at their own game by feeding them false intel. You will each feed them something so glaringly false that the Empire and the Republic will start to question their sources. They’ll have no choice but to investigate those inconsistencies and trace them back to the source. You will also let it slip that the Empire and the Republic are already hunting for the Star Cabal. With any luck, this will trigger a panic and lead them to revealing the location of their secret base.” 

“Darth Farqward has a massive previously unknown wealth of elite fighters, doesn’t she? Perhaps the Dark Council will call her in to reinforce their position.” 

Darth Farqward was Evie’s less than complimentary nickname for Darth Zhorrid, her Sith tormentor and nemesis. A sly knowing passed Keeper’s face in recognition of the name. Evie turned in amusement to share a little of the story with Theron and faltered. He was studying them pensively. 

“How are you proposing we get them to accept this false intel?” Theron asked, looking as though he already knew and didn’t like the answer that was coming.

“I have it on good authority that members of the Star Cabal will be attending a gala this evening. Our source was vague, I have a set of coordinates but no way of triangulating them.” 

“Have you tried Cornet City, ” Evie suggested, remembering their call with Hunter with an increasing sense of dread. Keeper entered the information into her data console. 

“Yes, that checks out. Astonishing work, Cipher. You will insinuate yourself into the gala, allow yourselves to be captured and reveal the information in any way that you deem necessary...” 

“I do hate these fancy dress galas,” Evie’s mouth was dry as she spoke with a mirthless smile. “They can be such torture.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter! Keeper is a great character and I didn’t want to sell her short. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with the story and for leaving comments or kudos!


	7. Chapter 7

Theron swept up his cards from the table with his long fingers and fanned them out in his hands—he was losing, badly. He was at eighteen; one more card would make or break his hand bringing his grand total to meet or exceed twenty. He calculated the odds; his mind returned to and lingered on the slaughter at the Imperial base. They were walking into an Op with insurmountable odds that would destroy the galaxy or destroy them both. He gritted his teeth and reorganized the cards in his hand in response. 

Vector leaned back in his seat to study Theron, weighing his options before saying: 

“We stand.” 

Theron’s mind jumped to the droid ambush and he saw the dangerous glitter of the vibroknife as it was poised to strike her down; panic seized his muscles from the ground as he waited for a clear shot that almost didn’t happen. 

“Alright, I stand too,” Theron spread his cards across the table in a tidy line. “I have eighteen.” 

Vector leaned in to study the hand with a face that suppressed a victorious gleam. 

“Nineteen, and we believe that is game.” 

Theron dropped his cards onto the table with a resigned smile. Pazaak was an old favorite of his; he could blame his scattered thoughts for his defeat but who was he kidding? Vector was the vastly superior player. 

“Forgive us, Agent Shan. We offered to play Pazaak because your aura appeared clouded but perhaps we ought to have suggested something stronger. Do you prefer, Ale, Whiskey, or Bourbon?” 

“Whiskey. I can see why she keeps you around,” 

“Our services have occasionally proven useful to her.” Vector returned with two glasses of amber-tinted liquid and handed one to Theron with a wistful expression. They raised their glasses up in silent salute and each savored their first sip. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Theron let the smoldering notes of the excellent Whiskey linger across his tongue; he stared at the glass appreciatively, wondering which member of the crew was responsible for stocking the wet bar. 

“You want to ask us why we left the nest.” 

“Something like that, yes...” It wasn’t the exact question he wanted to ask, but he suspected that Vector knew that. 

“We were searching for our place in the universe; a way to better serve, unite, and expand the nest.” Vector took a long, telling gulp of his Whiskey and drained it to the dregs. “Our nest expanded but not in the way we originally intended—we found our song—and we surmise we are not the only one to hear its call...” 

Vector’s voice trailed off abruptly; the sudden silence was interrupted by a soft rustle of fabric as it swept across the wood floor. Theron turned to follow Vector’s thoughtful gaze. She was a masterpiece, wearing a royal blue dress that shimmered in the light and dipped to her mid back to reveal an intricately sculpted set of shoulders. Her hair was dressed into a thick veil of curls around her neck and soft tendrils glowed like a gleaming halo around her face. 

Apoplectic shock shot through his system. His implants gave a small whirl in response to the sudden uptick of his racing pulse. With the dumbfounded whoozy smile of a besotted goon, he slowly rose from his chair. He marveled shyly at the transformation; an hour ago she was slicing and hacking her way through assassin droids, with blood, sweat, and gear oil dripping down her face. Now, every inch of her looked like she belonged at the pentacle of Corellian high society. He didn’t know why he on his feet, and he sincerely doubted that if he were asked if he could recall his own name. 

“The song is radiant,” He heard Vector murmur in a tender voice that was low enough to escape Evie’s hearing. 

“Yes...she is,” Theron returned hoarsely; all at once his mind absorbed Vector’s cryptic speech. 

His knees buckled under the weight of a crushing realization and he reached behind him for his glass of Whiskey to muster a little liquid fortitude to confront the myriad of panicky emotions that surfaced. No, no, no no. His mind was playing tricks on him. It couldn’t be that; they barely knew each other. He took a large gulp of his drink and drained the rest of the glass in one sitting; his throat burned from liquid and strangled emotions. It was the adrenaline of their work, the shared threat that was hanging over their heads that stirred up these...distractions—it couldn’t possibly be more than that. 

She quietly prepared for their mission, it was a similar ritual that fascinated him the first time he witnessed it on Dromund Kaas; everything had its place. She tucked her comm earpiece into her ear and gave it a quick test. She edged up the hem of her dress to the thigh and revealed a cunning well-hidden holster that could house both a small stinger blaster and her perilous knives. He averted his eyes guiltily, scolding himself for staring longer than was appropriate and he found that he was the subject of Vector’s unwavering steady gaze. It was the pitying look of a man who recognized a similarly shared condition. Theron sought to escape the look and without thinking, he moved slowly to approach her. 

With his logical mind begging him not to, he offered his hand to her with an open palm. He drank in every freckle, the light pink scar around her throat, the brilliant color of her eyes. Her ordinarily wry sardonic smile softened; her hand hesitated, then ever so gently dropped into his. He closed his fingers around hers and in one fluid movement, he brought the top of her hand up towards his face. He brushed his lips against the delicate skin reverently, his eyes never leaving her face. She gave a nearly imperceptible gasp; a slow flush crept to her cheeks while she studied him with a puzzled expression. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and slowly tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. 

“Shall we?” 

 

Corellia burned; buildings crumbled, the galaxy was locked in an unending struggle for survival and the glittering Corellian elite looked on as though the distant echoing drop of bombs, the screams of wailing children, were nothing but a trivial inconvenience. They were above it all figuratively, and literally, as they floated on an airship above Coronet City. Raucous drunken laughter competed loudly against the din of war. They celebrated their superiority; it was not their lives that would be destroyed, nor was it their children that were sent to fight. Theron’s eyes caught sight of Evie’s disapproving expression from across the room and he knew she shared his disgust. Turning a willful eye to the plight of human suffering was cruelty that surpassed even the most depraved of all the monsters in the galaxy. 

“I count five...no, eight guards, all heavily armed. What’s our play, Cipher?” He murmured into his comm. They were circulating the room separately to both count their enemy and map out escape routes. 

“Keeper said there would be a gathering of sorts for all the members of the Star Cabal during the party. We need to find it—we should split up.” 

“No. It’s not safe.” He said more sharply than he meant to. He felt the blaze of her stare on his back.

He heard a small snort of laughter. 

“Are you trying to protect me?” 

“N-n-no. Why would you....what...no.” His tongue tripped over itself before he managed to get a hold of his rambling mouth. “The success of the mission hinges on the delivery of the false intel. If you get yourself killed before you deliver the message thousands of people will die. We’ll have a better chance of success if we work together...as partners.” 

It sounded false even to his ears. In truth, their conversation with Hunter weighed heavily on his mind. It was not his throat that Hunter threatened to slice. She cut the comm and moments later was at his side. 

“Very well, we’ll do it your way provided that you don’t make a misguided attempt to keep me out of harm's way.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He returned lightly. 

“Good. I think I saw a small group disappear down that hallway. Follow me...partner.” 

 

They crept through a dimly lit corridor, while the party raged on in the background. There were two identical sets of brown doors; they each took a door and pressed their ear to it. Evie shook her head and waited as Theron listened at his. He kicked up the scanning frequency of his implants. 

“Once we have what we need...” 

He withdrew his ear, pointed silently at the door, and pulled out his blaster. She removed the stinger from her holster, and drew a short breath, indicating with her hand that she would cover him while he worked on slicing the door. He knelt to examine the door panel; the door slid open with a forboding creak. 

The room was dark, lit solely by the blue holoprojection of a man who stood to observe them with a mirthless smile. 

“Ah, there she is, the lady of the hour.” Hunter intoned with a dramatic spread of his hands. 

Evie brushed past Theron with her blaster drawn, turning tensely to the right and to the left to sweep the room. He followed closely behind, dread prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. To his right, a second door opened a shadowy figure wearing a long cape escaped the room. He heard the doors click their locking mechanisms into place with deafening certainty—they were alone with the sinister serpent. 

“I don’t recall adding your name to the guest list, Cipher.” Hunter’s eyes gave Evie a lingering pass that made Theron’s skin crawl. “Though, your choice of attire is stunning; I look forward to seeing it in person.” 

Evie let out a laugh of cold disdain as she said:  
“The only thing you’ll be seeing is the sharp end of my knife.” 

Hunter smiled appreciatively at her show of spirit before he dropped his voice to a low tone. 

“If you’re here to stop me, you’re too late. The Sith and Jedi will destroy themselves in a matter of days. Without their fierce Force defenders, the remainder of the galaxy will have no choice but to allow The Star Cabal to rule.” 

“Sith reinforcements are coming. You’ll face the full might of the Empire—you’ll never win.” Evie spat out the lie with fierce conviction. Theron forced himself to keep his features neutral as he waited breathlessly for Hunter’s reaction. 

“Fearless, but disappointingly naive. When will you learn, Cipher, that this a different sort of game.” 

Thick clouds of green knock out gas filtered through the air vents. Hunter’s maniacal shrill laugh rebounded off the walls as the room went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for leaving feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: This chapter does contain elements of torture so if that is something that bothers you, you may want to sit this chapter out. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading and for leaving feedback!

He woke with a disoriented jump, his cheek was pressed to numbing cold stone. His head pulsed with the familiar dizzying ache he first experienced on Dromund Kaas—if he wasn’t convinced of it before, he was now—he needed to train to resist knock out gas. He pulled himself up on his hands and knees, his body resisted the movement, he forced it to comply. His vision swirled; he wanted to wretch. Fragments of light gleamed between the outline of a solid door and the frame that housed it. With a snap of recollection, he remembered Hunter’s hologram, the spray of noxious green gas, and his eyes sprang open wide. Frantically, despite his body’s protests, he scrambled to his feet, peering into the darkness in search of a comforting shade of auburn. 

“Cipher?” He whispered into the void; his chest muscles seized with dread, black darkness swallowed the sound with empty silence. Fear flooded his senses; he called to her again with urgency. 

“Evie?” 

He heard a stir of fabric against the stone and a small groan. Relief and oxygen flooded into his lungs.

“Over here,”

He waded through the darkness, the light gleamed a small sliver, casting everything but the dim outline of her in shadow. She didn’t move to stand with him; her head was inclined back against the wall in fatigue. He reached out into the darkness like a blind man, his fingertips caressed the wall, and he moved to put his back against it so that he could sit cross-legged beside her. He heard her ragged breathing; shallow and quick. From his position, the thin beam of light revealed a bleeding, swelled lip and a hint of purple bruising around her throat. A small agonized gasp escaped his lips. 

“I’ve looked worse.” Her laugh was hollow and coarse. 

He dug into his mind to find a light-hearted retort and came up short. 

“You’ve done this before?”

“Training exercises; broke the Imperial Academy record. Twelve hours, thirteen minutes.” There was a hint of pride in her voice as she spoke. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them with her arms. 

“I take it this isn’t your first time, either,” Her eyes gleaned all of the information she needed from the unnerving way she had of reading him. 

“Unfortunately, no. I was captured by a Sith a year or so ago while trying to rescue a Jedi Master. These,” He tapped his implants with his finger. “Saved my life. They kept the pain manageable until Teff’ith was able to set us free.” 

“I’ve...I’ve been wondering about them since Dromund Kaas. May I touch them?” Her request was unguarded and innocent. 

“Sure. I think you’ll be disappointed. They’re not all that special...” His voice trailed off into the darkness as her arm stirred; she shifted her body so that she faced him. 

The tip of her index finger lightly traced each circular implant above his brow, as though she was exploring and committing them each to memory through touch. His eyes shut involuntarily; he surrendered to the intimacy of the moment with a soft ragged release of air. Her fingers grazed the edge of his hairline as they swept down the last longer row of implants that adorned his temple. 

“How do they work?” She asked as she traced the longer implant for a second time, finding every ridge and crevice. 

“They dull my pain receptors, adjust my vital signs, intercept calls, calculate data. I wouldn’t be alive without them...” Her fingers escaped the confines of the implant and drifted freely into his hair. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The implants in question kicked in to regulate his pulse. 

A shadow loomed at the door, blocking out any of the remaining light. The door slid open and two burly men stomped into the room and seized Evie roughly by the arm. He surged forward; one of the men hit him with a shock stick. His muscles seized and convulsed as he sank to his knees and Evie was drug from the room. The last thing he heard before he sank into unconsciousness was the heart rendering echoes of her tortured screams. 

 

Hour 6

A pair of fleshy fingers squeezed plump cheeks, roughly forcing her head back into place. She lingered between consciousness and oblivion; there was a burst of wind, a connection of hand to cheek. Her ears registered the slap before she felt its sting; behind her eyes lids, purple and white stars glittered, her teeth rattled in her head and bit painfully into her cheek. Blood, metallic and bitter, flooded into her mouth. 

“Tell us about the Imperial reinforcements, Cipher,” One eye jerked open; the gleam from her assailant’s bulbous balding hairline gave her a splitting headache. The muscles in her face strained to open the other eye; it was swollen shut. 

“No.” Her voice was resolutely firm. Her tormentor rolled his eyes and slapped her again in retaliation. Her head sagged from the impact and not for the first time she wondered if her body could endure what it would take for her confession to seem believable. 

“Bring out the other one,” Evie struggled against her binders as Theron was drug from their shared cell. His face was bruised but alert. She was relieved to see that he was able to walk on his own, the worst of the damage appeared to be absorbed by his extraordinary implants and courage. His features softened as he took in all that she endured, the bloodied tools of torment that were lying on a silver table next to her chair. 

“Don’t tell them anything, Theron.” She cautioned him fiercely. Hunter would never believe that she would be broken in anything less than ten hours. The second man with an infantile face and a snub nose picked up a shock stick and activated it. The electric hum permeated the silence. Evie’s eyes darted anxiously from the stick to Theron as the man kicked over a chair, roughly pushed Theron into it, and secured his hands with binders. 

Evie resolve crumbled momentarily and as they locked eyes with the knowledge of what he was about to endure, she mouthed a silent apology to him with every shock. 

 

Hour 10 

 

They drug her back to the empty room by one arm down the hallway and indelicately tossed her into the room. She collapsed against the wall; the stone floor felt cool against her swollen burning skin. They survived to her silent benchmark. Their captors were frustrated by their lack of progress. If they followed the standard interrogation technique, they would leave them alone for twenty minutes to recuperate then slowly increase the pain index. 

“Are you trying to beat your old record? You don’t have to prove it to me. I’ll take your word for it.”

She stifled a groan of pain; her arm throbbed from a recently inflicted burn. When she closed her eyes, she saw the brilliant electric white from the shock rod. 

“We need it to look real. Standard procedure is ten hours or more. After twelve hours, they’ll believe anything we say without question. The next time they take one of us, we need to map out the closest escape routes, count the guards. I still have my knives, but I’m not certain I trust my legs to walk.” 

He absorbed the information and said in a grave voice: 

“Have you considered that the Star Cabal and the SIS aren’t the only ones who want you dead?” 

There was a heaviness in his tone as he spoke. 

“It’s crossed my mind. Why? Would you like to add your name to that list?” 

He ignored her quip and plunged on. 

“They sent you into this mission without proper support. You have no backup to speak of...” 

“I have you,” The words floated out of her mouth and hung in the air. She didn’t want to immediately retract them. The darkness of the room, the sense of doom liberated her rigid reserve. 

“I’m worried we might not make it out of this.” His response was contemplative and it was clear he would not be deterred. He took a long breath before he continued. “So I propose we do away with the rules and pick up our question game where we left off—no question limits, no redactions. If I’m going to die, I’d like it to be at the side of someone I’ve known as a friend.” 

Her eyes searched through the darkness until she found his face, half revealed, half cloaked shadow. The sincerity of the expression disarmed her. 

“And when we inevitably survive this, and you return to the SIS and I to the Empire, what then? We’ll be a liability to each other for the rest of our lives.”

“I think we already are,” He admitted softly. “Earlier you said that trusted me with your life—trust me now.” 

They were facing impending death, excruciating torture, a galaxy on the brink of collapse and none of that gave her the same shooting thrill of fear as his perilous proposal. 

“I think I’m going to regret this,” She said with an exasperated groan. 

“That’s the spirit.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“If you could walk away right now, live an ordinary life, where would you go, what would you do?” 

A slow smile of gratitude crept to her lips. He could have asked her anything, about the SIS, her life in the camp on Dromund Kaas, but was too decent to exploit the opportunity. Her shoulders relaxed away from her ears and her heart gave another of the mysterious twinges that were occurring with more frequency. 

“I started this life when I was nine. I don’t think I could ever lead an ordinary life. I prefer to keep moving. In two years, when I retire and if I live to see it, I might take a page from Dr. Lokin’s book—“ 

“You’d become a Rakghoul?” 

Evie laughed despite herself. 

“No, I’d become a mercenary, accept odd jobs to pay the bills. Spend the rest of my time exploring the galaxy. What would you do?” 

“A normal life has never seemed like a path for me; it’s there in the distance but somehow always out of reach. Inevitably the path shifts against my will and I’m led down a different road...” 

Bitterness darkened his tone and she wanted to ask about it but chose instead to offer him the same consideration that he gave to her. 

“Tell me about the jacket,” She requested with a smile. “The day we met I accidentally put a hole in the lapel and you were furious.” 

“You saw that?” 

“I see everything.” 

“Not everything,” He murmured softly before he recalled himself with a start and sat a little straighter against the wall. 

“It was a gift from the man that raised me. He spent every credit he had on it because he saw that I liked it...” He frowned abruptly, and Evie turned to her eyes to follow the dread in his gaze. A large shadow loomed and obscured the remaining light in the room. 

“They’re back,” She confirmed grimly. “I’ll let the numbers slip; you lay the trap. With any luck, we’ll find their base.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Come along, Cipher. It’s time for us to have another chat with you and your little friend. This time, we won’t play nice...” It was the tall, wiry, snub-nosed man who stepped into the room with his blaster drawn. 

He was the one with the nastiest temper, the man who inflicted the burn on her arm that festered and pulsed. When they escaped, she vowed he would be the first to receive a poisoned knife to his chest. For now, she would bide her time, watch and wait for the right moment to strike. He attached binders to her wrists with a click. Inconvenient but not impossible. She waited; his back was turned while he busied himself with Theron’s binders. Calmly, she snuck her fingers into her hairline and retrieved two concealed hairpins that would, in the expert hands of two seasoned spies, easily pick the locks to their binders. That they were both capable of delivering the false intel was a given. What wasn’t a given was their escape route, and an accurate count of additional guards that occupied the space. The building was small; there was a surplus of extraneous doors and no windows. She counted three men; two who eagerly participated in the excruciating torture and one who lingered always in the shadows. One had a snub nose and large lips with a ginger beard; the other was a gigantic hulking man who was balding, sweated profusely, and had an unhealthy orange tint to his skin. The third man, whom she mentally dubbed the lurker, had no determining characteristics. She made it a personal challenge to draw out the third man from hiding this time.

They were shoved into chairs back to back and shackled to them with binders. To her right, Evie saw the gleam of new tools with sharp edges, jagged teeth, and long ends for poking delicate flesh. The bald man stood with darkly gleaming eyes, the snub-nosed man massaged his knuckles and tapped a deactivated shock stick to his palm. The lurker stood further back, arms crossed. He had large wide-set bulbous eyes that reminded her of the Mon Calamari. He favored her with a watery gray stare that pierced her soul. 

“Give up the intel, Cipher.” The ginger beard snarled into her face. 

“I won’t. You’ll have to kill me...” She ground out between clenched teeth. 

She did a visual inspection of the mood in the room. The goons were exhausted, unleashing a torrent of misery on two stubborn individuals was taking its toll. If she pushed them too far, their tempers would snap and they would both be dead in a matter of minutes. 

“If you keep taunting them like that they’re going to expect you to follow through,” Theron cautioned next to her ear in a low, anxious tone. 

“Trust me,” She whispered; she twisted her wrist in the cuff of the binder. With a jangle of metal to metal, her fingers strained until she reached his. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and as she released the pressure ever so slowly slipped one of the concealed hairpins into his hand. He stilled as the cold metal pin made contact with his palm. 

“Maybe this will loosen your tongue,” The bald man snarled at her with a growl. 

He lunged for Evie’s cheeks and pushed her head back roughly. From the table, he grabbed a long pair of vicious looking tongs with spikes. 

Theron wrenched his head around and shook his wrists to check the tightness of the bindings in a blind panic. 

“Tell them, Cipher,” He spoke with a quiet urgency that was too genuine to be feigned. They were almost there; a few more minutes of agony and their tormentors would be putty in their hands. Silver tongs edged toward her lips. Evie jerked her head to resist. Her tormentor grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back further. Their captors were prepared to deal lasting damage; still, she waited. What would it be like to live without her tongue? She supposed to would act as a convenient sieve to prevent her secrets from escaping her mouth. 

“Stop!” The quiet man in the corner, the one that Evie feared most, put up his hand right as the end of the tongs seized her tongue. She sagged in relief as the tongs were taken away. Theron’s fingers wrapped around hers in shaky relief. It was this small gesture of camaraderie that caught the quiet man’s attention. His gray eyes locked onto their conjoined hands. Did he see the pin? If he did they were already dead. The man’s eyes went from Evie to Theron, and he smiled thickly, as though he gleaned a minute detail, a chink in the armor they presented. 

“We can’t damage Hunter’s pet. He wants to deal with her personally—kill the non-essential.” 

Two men lumbered forward and undid Theron’s bindings. She tightened her grip on his hand; they pulled him away with a jerk, his hand slipped away from hers finger by finger. 

“No,” Desperation broke her voice; the quiet man spun her chair around as the two men forced Theron to his knees. 

“Blaster or vibroknives?” The bald man asked picking up both and presenting them to the quiet man. 

“Vibroknife to the throat, let her watch him bleed to death and see if that doesn’t loosen her tongue.” 

Her ears rang and sounds became muffled; she miscalculated their foes. With wide eyes, she watched as the balding man picked up a small, whisper-thin vibroknife on the table, similar to one she once held to his throat on Dromund Kaas. She rarely experienced genuine fear anymore; the most she could muster was a weak sort of numbness from time to time in life or death situations when her own life was concerned. At this moment it flooded her senses. His life was in her hands; if he died as a result of her error of judgment—she pushed the thought violently aside. For his sake, she needed to keep a level head. She dug down to her reservoir of tenacity, tapping into the Imperial training that taught her to lock her emotions away in exchange for sheer, unadulterated logic. Later, it would seep out, in nightmares, in quiet moments, but now, there was only calm. 

A large hand unsheathed the vibroknife; Evie locked eyes with Theron, expecting to see her own fear mirrored in his expression. His face was calm; his lips were pulled up into a serene half-smile. It was colored with the vaguest hint of irony, a smile of a stalwart ideologue willing to die for a cause he believed in. His olive-tinted eyes radiated different emotions; acceptance, forgiveness, and above all else, trust. In one look, he laid himself bare at her feet and his life was completely in her hands. His confidence in her abilities overwhelmed her; she wasn’t ready for it—no, that wasn’t it—she wasn’t worthy of it—real, unmitigated friendship, pure and freely offered; a gift from a man who was a millimeter from death. The power of it temporarily overwhelmed her—tears of gratitude sprang to her eyes. The vibroknife swept level to his throat, it vibrated maliciously in the silence. The larger man seized Theron by the hair and jerked his head back. The knife swung down and a scream tore from Evie’s throat, primal, and terrified; not an ounce, much to her chagrin, of counterfeit emotion. 

“Wait!” She was breathless. “Don’t kill him, I beg you. Let him live, and I’ll tell you what you anything you want...’ 

Her captors looked at each other in bewilderment, then both looked to the quiet man, who looked between her and Theron with an appraising, iniquitous smile that spread his lips fiendishly from ear to ear. 

“Evie, no! I’m not worth it.” Theron pleaded struggling against the edge of the vibroknife; it knicked the side of his throat and a small trail of blood trickled down. “If you tell them now, the whole operation will be blown. They’ll know we’ve found their base...” He gave an exaggerated grimace and then dropped his head in shame. All three men turned their eyes on Theron; shock hung over the room like a heavy shroud. Stars, he was good! The timing was perfect, the voice, the mannerisms, the browbeaten expression—all of it carefully crafted to draw them in. She could have kissed him in gratitude for his stunning performance...She could kiss him? 

She blinked; her heart gave a jittery jump before it dropped to the floor in dismayed revulsion at herself. She searched her scattered feelings; yes, this was an inconvenient and unfortunate reality. Of course she could; she wasn’t immune to his obvious charm and when he put his mind to it, he was decent company when he wasn’t trying to pry into her personal affairs with his impertinent questions. She tried to persuade herself this was a result of their hours of captivity, that her mind was pushed to the brink and that she was exhausted, that it was impeding her normally impeccable self-control. The desire lingered, mixed with her admiration of his nerve and his display of cunning. It was absolutely not an option; she reminded herself of her duties to the Empire, to the billions of lives that hung in the balance. That sort of decision belonged to another life; to a woman who could give herself freely to those types wild pursuits of passion. For the Empire’s sake, for the galaxy’s sake, and most especially, for Theron’s sake, it could never be explored. He offered her his friendship; the line would be drawn there. She burrowed her burdened mind back into the sanctity of her work. 

“What did you say?” The balding man’s anxious voice rang through the room and penetrated the silence. “Talk or you’re a dead man,” 

He lifted his fleshy hand and curled it into a fist, ready to strike the first of many painful blows. Evie hastened to intervene to spare Theron the pain. 

“The Empire is sending Lord Farqward with reinforcements to Corellia. Thousands of troops will be here within the hour to negotiate a ceasefire with the Republic.”

They were nervous; the balding man was sweating more profusely than usual. Her soul was satiated with their discomfort. Good; let them squirm and wallow in their fear. 

“It’s all for show of course. A distraction for their real ploy—they’ve found your base. Republic and Imperial special forces were tasked with rooting out and destroying your group. They’re coming for you...” 

All three men broke their formation. The gray-eyed man ran to the closest data terminal and punched in a series of commands into the keys. Exactly to plan; he entered in a hasty message and from what she could see of the keystrokes, forgot to encode it. Her eyes darted to Theron, who was watching the scene with the same keen interest. He caught her eye and without warning gave her a faint smoldering covert wink. Her heart did another drop to her feet and with irritation, she wrenched it back into her chest. No, no, no, no, no—this was not the time for utter nonsense. Where was her mind? Their trap was set, if they were to gain the location of the Star Cabal’s base, they needed to free themselves from their binders. 

Quietly, she slipped her hairpin into the mechanism, keeping her eyes trained on the backs of the three men who stood in quiet conference. Snippets of their hushed conversation drifted to her ears. 

“Hunter said to leave her alive...” The ginger-bearded man argued almost fiercely. It was clear he feared Hunter. 

“It’s better to kill them both—no evidence. We blow the place and make it look like a bombing run...” 

Evie attacked her binders with ferocious intent, her fingers frenzied. She gauged Theron’s progress. He was free; he quietly massaged his sore wrists. He was making calculations, deciding which of the guards to attack first. If he attacked the ginger-bearded man before she did, they would have words later. Her binders gave a small click and the pressure eased on her wrists. A small half smile crept to her lips and with a small nod to Theron, they began their assault. 

With a jump, that tucked into a roll, she drew her concealed knives from the holster beneath her dress. All three men spun around and began to charge. Two of the knives went wide, one stayed true, striking the ginger-bearded man straight into his throat with a sickening, yet, not wholly unsatisfying gurgle. He dropped to his knees and collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood. The orange-tinted man ran after Theron, who managed to knock the blaster out of his hands with a well-timed punch to the jaw. They engaged in battle, blow for blow, each ducking and diving, with Theron having the advantage in size and skill. 

Enraged, the quiet man charged at Evie with a bellow, with the shock wand shimmering. She swept her leg underneath his and sent him flying toward the ground. The fall stunned him, she scrambled on her hands and knees for the shock wand. It was a race, and the quiet man was hard on her heels. He grabbed her ankle and slowed her progress to a crawl. In an instant, his body was pressed into her back and his arm wrapped around her throat. He reeked of body odor and Spice; his bicep constricted, she choked as air became scarce. Still, she crawled. It was not her time to surrender. Victory at any cost was the unspoken motto of the Empire and it was ingrained into the marrow of her bones. She struggled; her fingernails clawed into his skin, he wrenched closer as he breathed into her ear. 

“Do you really think you can stop the Star Cabal?” He hissed in a low voice; Evie’s world grew dimmer. One of her fallen knives sat just out of her reach; her fingers strained as the tips of her fingers brushed the hilt. 

“Evie!” Theron yelled in panic from across the room rushing her direction to deliver aid; the balding man hit him with a series of punishing body shots that sent him reeling. 

Stars clouded her vision, her body was nearly out of air. Her mind dipped into the last of her reserved strength and with a groan, she pushed her muscles to their brink and grasped the handle of her knife. Triumphantly, her fingers closed around the hilt while she sank her teeth into the quiet man’s arm. He shrieked in pain and loosened his grip. With a jerk, she drew her head back against his face. His nose cracked and he scrambled off her back to recover. She rolled around to face him; anger seethed from every fiber of her soul; she trembled from it. 

“I don’t think I can stop them—I know I can.” She growled; she seized him by the collar and without another moment’s hesitation, drove her knife home into his chest. He collapsed to the ground without another word. Evie hovered over him, struggling to catch her breath as she gingerly massaged her aching throat. That was too close for comfort; she allowed herself to become distracted and nearly paid the price for it. If they were to succeed in saving the galaxy, she would need to focus her mind and drive away those distractions. 

There was an explosion of blaster fire; another thud of a heavy collapsed body at her back, and she turned tardily as a pair of strong hands seized her shoulders. Adrenaline kicked in; she curled her fists and put them up to fight. With an indelicate shove, she pushed the hands away before her eyes beheld a familiar set of shoulders. She was face to face with Theron. He was winded, covered in his own blood from his bleeding nose. Gingerly, he resettled his hands on her shoulders, afraid that she might punch him. “That was close...I thought...” He breathed; he gave her shoulders a little tug and drew her in for a clumsy hug. It was not a full embrace; they were both too cautious to allow for that sort of twaddle. His arm rested against her shoulders; his chin leaned between her forehead and the top of her hair. “You know, when you invited me to a gala, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” He whispered with hint of a smile in his voice. Evie unleashed a shaky laugh. She struggled to keep her tone light and even. 

“Oh really? I thought we were having a nice time. Pity,” 

His arm shifted her closer; his mouth was between her hairline and her forehead; as he spoke, the edge of his lips brushed lightly against her skin.

“I never said I wasn’t having a good time,”

What would it be like to forget their mission? What would the consequences be if she gave into temptation once and grabbed him by the lapels...She squeezed her eyes shut and forced her mind back—the mission won out. She gave a half-hearted tut of reproach and gently took a step away from him. His eyes searched her face in confusion and unless she imagined it, disappointment. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and ran a tired hand over his face.

“We need the data or all of this,” She motioned to the three prone bodies, the scattered torture tools, the blaster burns on the wall. “Will have been for naught.” 

They each thoughtfully approached the data terminal and Theron got to work. 

“Slicing their databases and tapping into their communications frequencies...now.” He gave a decisive tap of his index finger. There was a flurry of beeps and several keys lit up red. He gave a small nod of satisfaction. 

“Our messages have been delivered. Tracing the data now,” Evie’s muscles tensed; would their plan, all the suffering, the hours of agony be rewarded, or would they hit yet another roadblock. His fingers stilled, he leaned his hands against the edge of the terminal and unleashed a long sigh. 

“Well?” Evie asked quietly; she held her breath. 

“I have the coordinates.”

“We did it?” She whispered in disbelief; a slow smile spread to her lips. 

“We did it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy May the Fourth every one! 
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> Sorry for the time between updates! 
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> Feedback, kudos, and constructive criticism is much appreciated. Thanks for sticking with the story!


	10. Chapter 10

“The coordinates are uploaded,” He paused to lean closer to the screen, not fully comprehending the last sentence he read. “I’m copying their other files for us to take a look at later. There’s something else here but I don’t know what it means. Here, come take a look.” 

Evie was on the other side of the room, retrieving their confiscated weapons and examining the premises for any other potential intelligence. She moved stiffly back to the data terminal, clutching her ribs with a grimace that, when she saw that he was watching, she quickly adjusted into a stretch. He frowned; she was trying to hide the injury and had been since he reunited with her on Corellia. He made a mental note to badger her about it later; then chided himself. It wasn’t his place to badger her about anything—she made that painfully clear. 

He made a tactical error in judgment earlier drawing her into his arms, holding her close, touching his lips to her skin for a stolen kiss to her forehead that he both hoped and feared she didn’t notice. He didn’t know what possessed him to do it; the response was instinctive—she naturally fit into the crook of his arm. His arms still felt the shape of her shoulders, his lips tasted the smooth warmth of her skin and his heart felt the return a familiar ache that had grown exponentially since Dromund Kaas. Then, without provocation, she pushed a barricade between them, the brief moment of blissful connection was severed and with a decisive ‘tut’ he was left to imagine what would never be. He smothered a sigh into his hand and worked through some difficult encryptions as she approached the terminal. 

They were both wounded, filthy, and in need of sleep or an Adrenal. Her dress was torn and ripped up the side; when she walked, he saw a tantalizing hint of the brown holster on her thigh. The thought of running his hand up the length of her leg to remove said holster invaded his brain. With a firm shake of his head, he recalled his mind; that idea was a nonstarter. He realized that she was at his side, her shoulder pressed into his to review the questionable data, blinking at him with a narrow, questioning stare. 

“Most of the communications are pretty standard. These, don’t make sense to me at all. Have you ever seen this before?” 

He pointed to several lines of text, encoded files all labeled as “The Black Codex”. Evie’s brows creased as she squinted and leaned in to take a closer look. 

“No. We should return to the ship. I’ll have Keeper run analysis and see what she can find.” 

 

They limped across Corellia in the mid-afternoon light. To the average Corellian citizen they presented quite a sight; bruised, bloodied, clothing in tatters. When it was clear they were attracting too much attention, they shifted off the main-thoroughfares and took to the alleyways. They passed much of the time in weary silence, skirting around patrols and clambering over wreckage. As they continued, their progress slowed, or rather her progress slowed due to injury and impractical attire. They wound their way through an alley filled with a large pile of duracrete and space wreckage.

 

He heard a sharp pain-filled ‘kriff’ and he turned. Her dress was caught on the sharp rubble and with a furious expression, she tugged at it until the fabric surrendered and tore. The endearing show of temper and language brought a soft smile to his lips. Occasionally, this side of her would slip out beneath the layers of cool, dry, well-mastered self-control and he didn’t know which side he preferred more. He turned and offered her his hand to help steady her progress, schooling his expression so that his smile did not provoke further outrage from her. She stared in proud defiance at his hand, weighing whether or not to humble herself before she relented and gently rested her palm against his. With her free hand, she picked up the train of her dress as he gently assisted her down the mountain of destruction. The shy look of gratitude she shot him lifted his tired spirits and distracted his mind. Her hand wrapped around his and, emboldened by the feeling of it, he tucked it gently into the crook of his arm as they continued on their path at a much slower pace. 

“You spoke earlier about the man that raised you,” She began in a soft voice after they walked a short distance in silence. “Tell me about him.” 

Theron hesitated; he didn’t want to speak of Zho, the painful memories associated with his rejection from the Jedi order and most recently, of his failure to save his former master, still smarted like fresh wounds. 

“Classified,” 

“Redactions aren’t allowed anymore.” The rebuttal was gentle, yet firm—there would be no arguing with her. 

He weighed his options carefully; she was tenacious enough that if she put her mind to it, she might be able to find out the information from the SIS database—he wouldn’t put it past her to try. Still, he needed to proceed cautiously. Some of the information about his childhood was so sensitive that there were only two other people in the universe who knew his secret. He chose the path of the spy; honesty through omission. He doubted that if he were to ask her similar questions that she would be completely forthcoming about all aspects of her life. 

“I was raised by a Jedi master.” The confession slipped out between two barely parted lips. 

His chest loosened; it was a relief to share that secret with someone else. Her face was calm, he expected to see reproach or curiosity and instead saw that she tilted her head toward him to indicate that she was listening. 

“I was an orphan,” It was a half-truth though it felt more like truth than a lie. “Master Zho took me in without question and tried to teach me the Jedi way. He got the notion in his head that I might be a Force user. He thought with enough practice the lessons might make me a great man,” 

He didn’t disguise the bitterness in his voice.

“He put all his faith in me, and I failed. The Force doesn’t flow through my veins. And to add insult to injury, I failed Zho again right when he needed me most...” 

His voice broke, he couldn’t hide it; shame surged to his face and without meaning to he stopped walking. The memory of his overwhelming failure on his mission to defeat Darth Mekhis sprang to mind. 

“He was the Jedi master you were trying to save...” Evie’s voice broke into his darker musings. He nodded, unable to meet her eyes. He waited, for platitudes, for soft reassurances that he was not a failure and received none. Instead, she spoke with an unguarded voice that was different than her usual tone. 

“In my experience, the Force doesn’t make anyone greater than they already are; what we do with our failings does,” 

He lifted his eyes to her face as the wisdom of her words sank in. She acknowledged the failure to protect Zho for what it was, he was grateful to have that type of understanding, that she refused to soften his past and she saw it for what it was. He never expected to share this type of confidence with anyone, let alone with an Imperial spy on a war-torn planet, yet here it was, and it could never again be unspoken—his soul was filled with peace for the first time in years. He hesitated; the same question that plagued his mind for days sprang to his lips and he knew from her tight expression that she saw it. 

“You want to hear about the SIS.” She confirmed in a flat monotone. 

He shook his head to deny it. 

“No, it’s your business, Cipher. I won’t pry—“ 

She drew in a deep breath and launched into the story, her eyes staring off into the distance with a vacant expression. 

“It was brainwashing. I walked straight into a trap and was too arrogant to realize it until it was too late,” 

He couldn’t hide his surprise; his brows shot up to his hairline and he struggled to grapple with the confession. 

“You were brainwashed? By who?” The question escaped before he could prevent it. A weary half-smile escaped her lips.

“The Sith; I’m too dangerous to be left to my own devices. I was sent on a mission to join the SIS as a double agent. Ardun Kothe was my handler from the SIS, and he was joined by Hunter...” 

Theron thought his eyebrows couldn’t lift any higher; he was wrong. 

“Someone from the Empire gave them the reins to my conditioning; I did unspeakable things to civilians, agents of the Republic and the Empire...” Her skin was pale, she looked green as she spoke, as though she were reliving every moment. 

“The worst part was, I could have prevented their needless deaths. All I had to do was mention my conditioning to anyone, and the failsafe would have been triggered. I could have sacrificed myself instead of their lives. I live every day with that failure—I was too much of a coward to die for them.” 

There were tears in her eyes, several traced their way down her elegant cheeks, creating clear paths through the grime and dirt. Every phrase, every sentence he composed in his mind fell short. He didn’t have paltry comforts for her, there was nothing he might say that could absolve her guilt. The burden was unfair; she did not have a choice and while he might argue that what she did enabled her to continue to fight and expose the Star Cabal, he knew from experience that there was no reasoning with this type of regret. So instead, he chose the words that sprang from his heart. 

“It’s selfish of me, but I’m so very glad that you failed.” 

Her heavy features lifted; she drew a quivering breath and unleashed a radiant, genuine smile. She brushed the tears away with the palms of her hands, then quietly returned her hand to the crook of his arm when he offered it. They walked the rest of the way to the Spaceport in companionable silence, the weighted wall between them lifted by their frank honest confessions. 

As they approached her ship, she slowed her pace to a halt and she turned to face him. 

“Theron, I...”Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped to her feet; silent words passed over her lips and failed to surface. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you...” The words faded away; she was on her tip-toes, the palms of her hands rested against his cheeks and she drew him down to her level. His heart shot into his throat as her mouth hovered inches away from his face. She planted a tender, lingering kiss on his cheek; she did not pull away. The tip of her nose rested against his cheek; then, she shifted her lips and placed a second exploratory kiss that landed in the space where the corner of his mouth met his cheek. He smiled as she pulled her lips away and tilted her face up to meet his, her eyes drifted from his face to his lips expectantly. 

“Cipher?” A voice called to their backs. Evie whirled around guiltily and Theron unleashed a frustrated groan. It was Lokin, who stood on the ramp of the ship with his arms crossed. 

“We’ve looked everywhere for you. We were starting to assume the worst. Keeper called four times in the past twenty minutes...” 

Evie shot him a reluctant gaze then turned with scarlet cheeks to head up the ramp. He trailed behind his mind a whirl, a giddy smile on his face, with his hand gently massaging his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Revenge of the Fifth/Sixth! 
> 
> This is a little on the fluffy side—but I stand by it. Hopefully it’s not too out of character. I hope you like it! 
> 
> This chapter is to soften the blow of the next few chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

If Lokin saw her display, and she was fairly certain he saw all of it, he chose not to immediately acknowledge it. He prided himself on being a true Imperial. When it came to embarrassing topics of conversation, he avoided them entirely, or skirted around the issue, dropping subtle hints that there was more on his mind than met the eye. He coughed twice into his hand while he injected her with a Kolto infusion. She made an effort to scrutinize the floor instead of meeting his pointed gaze.

When she did not acknowledge his first signal, he attempted a second. He gave her a cursory summary of Temple’s progress in locating and rescuing Kaliyo (there wasn’t an actual update from Temple, she preferred to maintain comm silence while she was working) but he made an effort to praise Temple’s temperate, level-headed approach to her work. Evie ignored the dig. If Lokin wanted her to be the first to address it, he would have rather a long wait—she was too distracted by her own musings.

Conflict besieged her every thought. She was all at once euphoric; wild freedom carried her heavy heart then it collapsed in equal measure into shame. What possessed her to do such a terrible, _perfectly_   _wonderful_ , awful thing? It was a slip of her reserve, a moment of weakness where she gave into temptation. It ought to have stopped with the one kiss on the cheek—the second was almost too egregious to bear. Still, a small part of her wanted to kiss him again, to chase the dazed expression in his eyes with more kisses...Lokin added a bacta patch to the burn on her shoulder that stung until her eyes watered.

“Ouch! That smarts.”

“You ought to be more careful,” He scolded her gently as he started to clean up his surgery tray.

“It was torture, doctor. It wasn’t as though I had a choice,”

“You know what I mean,” He shot a long, irritated look out of the med bay door where Vector and Theron were engaged in a serious conversation by the wet bar.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“Your intentions are obvious, Evie and I’m not unhappy for you. If I thought this was another one of your trysts like what you had with Arisotrca, I wouldn’t breathe a word. But this is a dangerous time for you,”

Evie stood abruptly from the medical table and pulled on her jacket with a furious jerk. There was no use arguing with him. He was a seasoned spy, observant, quick-witted—one of the few Cipher agents who lived well into his retirement. There was no use denying it anymore, not to him, not to herself. She settled herself for a logical lecture that she knew she needed but didn’t have the heart to listen to.

“Vector and I are reasonably open-minded. There are others, particularly on the Dark Council that will not see your actions in the same light. View this from the perspective of your enemies. What do you suppose their first step will be when they discover this?”

The Dark Council would try her for treason, capture Theron, and immediately put him to death in the most excruciating way possible. It pained her to admit it; she hated him for it, but Lokin was right. Yet, try as she did to force herself to regret the choices of the past two weeks, she couldn’t condemn her actions in their entirety.

“Do you remember what Karus Jan used to say?” She countered, recalling her dead informant with a tender smile. His passing seemed like an eternity ago and it was difficult to believe that it was the impetus for all that had transpired since.

Lokin’s features softened at the mention of his oldest friend.

“Were you thinking of ‘a cautious life is not a well-lived life?’ Or were you thinking of ‘eat, drink, and make love frequently for life is not lived through one’s accomplishments’...”

“The first one.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Stars, is that really how the second platitude went?”

“It varied from agent to agent.” His stern features, creased from his many wisened years deepened into something akin to paternal affection. “Karus’ flimsy wisdom is no way to live your life, Evie. It cannot save you,”

“And you cannot save me from myself, Eckard. I make my choices, all of us suffer the consequences, or have you forgotten our arrangement?” She teased with a sly half-smile.

“I only wish to spare you pain. You are allies now, yes. No matter your feelings, don’t deny it Evie, neither of you can change your allegiances. If you continue down this path, the cost may be great. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

 

 

Evie stepped into the lounge walking like a sleep-walker. The room was empty; Theron she surmised retreated to the sanctity of the fresher, Vector to his quarters. She walked over to the data terminal and mindlessly picked up Karus Jan’s weathered datapad. She flicked on the screen and a slow smile crept to her lips. There was a tidy report, a summary of all their findings, thorough, succinct, and expertly prepared for her to deliver to Keeper. She was so touched by the thoughtfulness of Theron’s gesture that she nearly missed the flash of the holoterminal. Her eyes caught the reflective light and saw that the signal was heavily encrypted. With a look over her shoulder, she walked into the conference room and secured the door.

“This is Cipher Nine to Keeper,” She began with an even tone, keeping the datapad in her hand, ready to deliver the summary of their findings. The holoterminal flashed blue, and the image of a person she knew as Keeper but not the one she was expecting swam into view.

“Minister, this is unexpected. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He appeared more gaunt than usual. Through the blue, lines of fatigue heavily festooned his forehead like a crown. Evie slowly lowered herself into one of the plush conference room chairs, straightened her spine, and folded her hands in an effort to present calm control.

“Keeper has been keeping me updated with your...investigation. I understand you were recently captured by the Star Cabal,”

“Yes, I had some success. I was able to discover the location of their secret base. We...I was able to disseminate the false information to them. The Empire should be able to trace the Star Cabal spies.”

“Excellent work, Cipher. Send us the data, we’ll begin the necessary arrangements for your assault on the base.”

“Some of the data was badly damaged, but there was a phrase that cropped up in almost every transmission. Do the words ‘The Black Codex’ mean anything to you, sir?”

The Minister paused; he released his steepled fingers and leaned forward with intense curiosity.

“You’re quite certain that’s what it says?” He stopped to stroke his chin. “Fascinating, I always assumed it was a myth.”

“What exactly is The Black Codex?”

“There were always rumors of its existence though they were never confirmed. From what I understand, it’s a database of sorts, meant to preserve plots and secrets. It contains the names of every operation we’ve conducted, every operation that the Republic has ever conducted, and the names and aliases of every operative in the galaxy. In the wrong hands, it’s a weapon of untold catastrophic proportions. If the Star Cabal has the Black Codex, it must be located immediately. You will travel to their base, find the location of the Black Codex and retrieve it for the Empire....”

“Acknowledged and understood,” She replied with a swift business-like tone. She started to rise from her seat, but the Minister did not end the transmission. Sensing a trap, she lowered herself back into her seat cautiously.

“There is one more matter, Cipher.” He folded his hands, and his eyes blazed with suppressed fury. “You’re currently in violation of your contract.”

She was transported to the exact moment the Minister first ensnared her in his vicious web—that cursed contract—the one choice that dogged her every step for twenty years. A voice from her past, the Minister’s voice echoed in her head and suddenly she was nine, frizzy-haired, despair-ridden, and trapped in a prison cell that threatened to swallow her whole with desolation.

_“I thought you should know that your mother is still alive, and working in an Imperial camp on Ziost per my orders.”_

Evie blinked and she dropped into a swift frown as the shadows of her childhood entwined with the nightmare of her present. Keeper must have informed the Minister about her partnership with Theron. She didn’t fault Keeper for her decision—-it was the correct procedure after all—rogue agents were meant to be reported immediately.

In her mind, she watched as younger Evie, small, her feet small and unable to reach the floor sat cowering on her prison bed, her arms wrapped around her body for warmth and protection. He hovered over her like a bird of prey floated on the wind.

“ _You seem like a smart girl, so I won’t tarry with you any longer. Work for the Empire, bring glory to Imperial Intelligence and in exchange, the death sentence on your mother’s head will be lifted by me so long as your work is fruitful and you remain loyal. Should you survive long enough to have worked for twenty years, I’ll consider your debt paid and you’ll be free to go anywhere in the galaxy. Disobey, and it will not only be your life that hangs in the balance.”_

She wanted to reach out to her younger self, to urge that fragile Evie to flee, to not sign her life away and to prize her freedom at any cost. The sound caught in her throat; her mind summoned her back to her present. Her choice was made; twenty years of her life wasted in blood-soaked errands. She was the savage lapdog of a cruel master and though she tried through her various choices to separate herself from them, to choose the righteous path when possible, she was drowning in her sins. Young Evie was forever tarnished by a choice that was never a choice to begin with.

She returned to the conference room; her stomach was twisted into knots. She waited to respond to his accusation until she knew her voice would not quiver. Any number of her choices might have violated the contract. Perhaps there was a chance that he was bluffing.

“Violation? How can you say that, sir? I’ve served the Empire loyally for almost twenty years...”

“What of Theron Shan?” He dropped the question like a thermal grenade.

She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a dangerous level.

“What of him?”

“We both know that you’ve bungled this operation by involving him...”

The defensive sound of her voice was hoarse and it rose hardly above a whisper.

“We’re working together to stop the Star Cabal. The intel he shared was invaluable in our gaining the coordinates of their secret base. Operations have been searching for three months for it...”

“Useful or not, you gave him access to an Imperial installation, revealed Keeper’s identity, and a host of other security breaches. We are at war—this man is our enemy.” He slammed his fist against his desk for emphasis—a rare display of temper. “You know Imperial code and the proper procedure—terminate him.”

“No.” She said with an emphatic shake of her head. This was her hard line; she refused to cross this boundary in order to fulfill her contract.

“You’re refusing a direct order, Cipher?” The question was low with disbelief. “Think carefully about your answer...”

“I will not condemn an innocent man and ally to death...”

“Nonsense. You’ve never blinked an eye before. Sometimes I wish you never broke free of your conditioning.” He grumbled indignantly. “Very well, you leave me no choice. Your contract is void. Your mother’s life will be terminated immediately. You have lost your Cipher designation and Agent Shan will be dispatched quickly by one of our best assassins...”

She wavered on the edge of her chair, watching as the Minister thoroughly raked and sowed misery through the small patch of happiness she called her own.

“Spare their lives, I’ll do anything you ask.”

Seconds ticked by; he considered her offer, studying her like he would an opponent then addressed her almost cheerfully.

“Here is my offer: your contract for your mother’s life will expire in two years as previously negotiated—she will go free as promised. If you want to bargain for Agent Shan’s life, we will draw up a new contract for twenty more years of service.”

Evie collapsed against the back of her chair deflated at the cruelty of his terms. She would be 45, well past the life expectancy of the average Cipher agent—most retired at the ripe age of 29—the rest died or disappeared in a mysterious fashion. This was a death sentence.

“And you must bring me the Black Codex intact. If you succeed, I’m willing to overlook this latest transgression. If you defy me again, I will refer you and Agent Shan to the Dark Council and this time, I will not intervene.”

Twenty years of her life were already dedicated to the Empire, to an entity that loathed her existence. She didn’t owe them anything; not another moment of her time, not a speck of her loyalty. Yet, hers was not the only life in play. Her mind mulled a single decisive question; it repeated and circled over and over. _What did she owe to Theron?_ He burst into her colorless thoughts with a flash of red and black. Her strict code of self-preservation said that Theron was a grown man, a spy to boot, who when faced with a death mark on his head was fully capable of managing said death mark on his own without intervention from her. After all, it was bound to happen sooner or later—he did destroy the Empire’s most prized ship. Perhaps this was the natural way of life, the culmination of his career as her enemy.

The pragmatic thought weighed like a heavy stone on her shoulders. Self-preservation or not, Republic spy or not, he did not deserve this fate. She thought of the day on Dromund Kaas that they shook hands and formed their alliance. Without so much as a thought to the consequences, he agreed to help her save Kaylio; he freed the slaves from the camp on Dromund Kaas in response to her criticism of the Republic. He saved her from being impaled by an assassin droid...Try as she could to undo the stain of her sordid career, she could never match his inherent goodness nor, as she considered it further, would she ever truly be worthy of his friendship. If she traded her life away, at least it would be for someone who deserved the chance to live and in this small way, she might begin to repay a little of her debt to the galaxy.

“I have some conditions,” Evie spoke slowly.

The Minister folded his hands on his desk and smiled snidely.

“You are in no position to bargain, Cipher.”

“I haven’t shared the coordinates of the Star Cabal base. If you want me to retrieve the Black Codex for you, I suggest that you listen.” She snapped. “I want it in writing that should I perish before our contract expires that my mother and Agent Shan will continue to remain unharmed...Here are my other terms...”

 

She emerged from the conference room a short time later with a grim expression, her skin taut and her forehead pinched. She was both relieved and weighted by her new, abysmal fate. In truth, retirement always loomed large in her mind. She never truly knew or could see beyond it to look forward to her future. At least now, her path was clear. She didn’t know how or when to articulate her choice to her crew, or whether they would be willing to endure it with her. She knew one indisputable fact—Theron must never know. She wandered over to the wet bar and poured herself a snifter of Brandy, downed it in one gulp.

Theron, Vector, and Lokin sat engaged in a contentious game of Pazaak. Theron and Lokin were studying each other-spy to spy, in an attempt to learn each other’s tells. Vector was the first to notice her solemn entrance; his body language shifted—he was sensing ‘her aura’ as he liked to call it and from the frown on his face, she knew he was about to comment about hers. She shot him a warning look and shook her head. He snapped his eyes back to his cards in an obvious way that attracted the attention of Theron and Lokin.

“Agent Shan insists that he isn’t cheating, but I don’t see how he couldn’t be,” Lokin’s smile faltered. He drank in her pallor and was up on his feet.

“Are your ribs troubling you again, Evie? I know you said you didn’t want it but as a physician, I think you should be in a Kolto tank.”

“No, I’m alright—a bit knackered. I might trouble you for an Adrenal later...” She made a concerted effort to avoid Theron’s eyes at all cost.

She studied the rim of the glass she held instead, watching as the condensation traipsed down the glass like silent tears. Her eyes darted up to his face. His hair was still damp from the fresher, his face smooth from a recent shave. Admittedly, she’d grown used to his more grizzled appearance from the last day and a half. The familiar pang returned to her chest once again—she pushed it aside. It was that sort of dangerous thinking that got her into this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious about Evie’s decision and her arrangement with the Empire you can find her backstory here:   
> https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/18378290 
> 
> (I promise it’s not out of left field—it’s part of the larger story). 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. Any feedback is greatly appreciated—I’ve lost all objectivity.


	12. Chapter 12

The encoded message from Jonas arrived shortly after he stepped out of the fresher. He read it; the corner of his mouth tingled. He re-read it again, Jonas wanted to meet, his mouth still tingled, three days with no word, Jonas was concerned, etc, etc....Theron melted into a chair in the lounge and set Karus Jan’s datapad aside. The room was empty, save for the blue light that drifted across the floor from underneath the conference room door. Pensively, his fingers traced to the exact spot where her lips touched the corner of his. 

The first kiss to his cheek was innocent enough, the result, he hoped, of their shared confidences and the growing trust between them. The second kiss set every nerve on fire; shocked his system and left him thoroughly bewitched. It was the quiet boldness of it, the way that she allowed her lips to trace his cheek to the exact corner of the mouth that overloaded his senses, almost as if she’d discovered it through careful study. Her eyes poured into his, unfathomable and tempestuous. They pulled him toward her, and he nearly gave in to the desires that he fought with all his strength for days. It was, without a doubt in his mind, the most seductive moment of his life, which, as he considered it, was either a depressing commentary on the state of his romantic life or a compliment to her.

He picked up Karus Jan’s tattered datapad; turning it over in his hand to review the scars, knicks, and dents with a fond smile. It was this badly bruised device that set him on this journey. It started with the heartbreaking loss of Karus, one of his closest friends. Yet, almost as if he’d known, Karus united him with Evie, and he discovered through the loss the tender blossoming of what he hoped was the start of a long-lived friendship. It was too soon to dare hope for more, but if that kiss was a promise of more...He shook his head; the galaxy was currently burning itself into cinders. This, whatever this was between them, would have to wait. Theron resumed his perusal of Balkar’s message with a stifled groan—the meeting could not be postponed any longer. 

The lounge cleared; Lokin retreated to the med bay, Vector to the conference room for a diplomatic call. She was a portrait in solemnity, her elbows were perched on the wet bar, her fingers traced the rim of her glass thoughtfully, her eyes were distant, her lips drooped downward. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders and curled down her back with an extravagance that reminded him of a fiery waterfall. This was the first time he witnessed it completely free from a bun, braid or pins; his fingers longed to trace and tangle in the soft waves. Her eyes met his; it was her reticent smile, the one that curled her lips ruefully up on half of her face that urged his feet forward. 

He struggled to find the right words. He needed something clever; a suave one-liner, something that zinged. What should he say? ‘Credit for your thoughts?’ No, that was too prosaic. ‘What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?’ Space garbage; absolute drivel. His objective was to draw her out into conversation, not to take her home from a cantina. She was clearly troubled by something—should he ask about it? His heartbeat clicked at a steadily increasing clip until his mind was so overwhelmed that he said the first thing that sprang to his mind before he was able to stop himself. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

He resisted the urge to slap the palm of his hand to his forehead. Of all the sentences in the galaxy that he might have gone with, that was what his mind came up with? Evie blinked at him and her eyes widened with a mixture of amusement at his expense and confusion. She tilted her head to the side; her bright eyes narrowed as she studied his casually affected pose as he leaned his back against the wet bar and crossed his arms. Then, she stood and reached across the bar to retrieve a second glass. She poured him a darker, richer liquid, not the same color as his new favorite Whiskey.

“Aren’t SIS Agents meant to be masters of interrogation and charm?” She asked him with one lifted brow and a teasing smile that threatened to hedge upward.

“Who says I’m not? Maybe this is all part of it.” 

She raised her glass to him and smothered a laugh with a small sip. He dropped his head to his chest. 

“Who am I kidding? That was never my style—I think I mentioned before that I prefer a more direct approach with the people I work with.“

“Yes, I remember—Theron Shan: the only operative in the galaxy without a proper code name.” 

He took a sip of her chosen beverage; it burned down his throat and kicked him in the mouth with the taste of smoke, and richer spice flavors. 

“Not bad,” He wheezed out as the alcohol burned his lungs on his second taste. “What is it?” 

“Mantellian Brandy—some of the best in the galaxy. It was a gift from Karus to quote ‘use sparingly on the most auspicious of occasions.’” 

He pulled a face as he turned the glass on its side to examine the viscosity of it unenthusiastically. 

“What’s the occasion?” Sarcasm and distaste radiated from features. “Have we been invited to another gala?” 

She rolled her eyes; her fingers stole his glass and she downed his pour with one gulp without so much as a flinch. She set the glass down in front of him with a challenging thunk, then reached over the bar and retrieved a familiar decanter. She poured a little of the lighter Whiskey into the bottom of his glass with a little nod, looking as though she confirmed a nagging suspicion about his beverage preferences. He added another note to his mental file: she preferred Mantellian Brandy, she took great pride in stocking her wet bar, and she possessed superb taste in Whiskey. 

“We lived to see another day; I think that is occasion enough,” 

She looked torn between two drastically different points, at war with words and logic, her face reflected guilt, shame, and regret. 

“What did Keeper say?” He asked in a soft voice. 

“Oh, nothing terribly important. The Black Codex is trivial, some odd bit of code that the Star Cabal uses for their transmissions to keep them encoded. She said it would take some time for her to properly break it.”

He fought the urge to frown—it didn’t seem like a code to him when he analyzed it but in truth, he was more than a little distracted when he looked at it. Maybe he missed it? That still didn’t explain the change in her demeanor. She walked out of the conference room with a gray pallor and promptly poured herself a drink. There was more to the story than met the eye. 

“What else did she say?” 

He lowered himself onto a stool beside her, leaning one elbow onto the bar while he studied the sad lines etched onto her face. She folded both hands around the glass and gripped it tightly. Her shoulders sank into themselves and she stared at the wood of the bar as she spoke with an even tone. 

“I was reminded where my loyalties lie. I’ve been advised that for both our sakes, it would be better for me to continue after the Star Cabal alone.”

He exhaled slowly; the vice-like tightness in his chest relaxed. Was that all? He was worried that maybe the regret she exuded was a result of their shared confidences or that she regretted crossing the threshold with him into the boundary of friendship. 

“That doesn’t surprise me. In fact, I think I’m in for it too. I need to meet with my SIS contact and explain that you haven’t actually kidnapped me. When I come back, we can plan how to infiltrate the base without being shot to pieces. I’ll show you the schematics I found—“ 

“I’m inclined to agree with Keeper.” She interjected quietly.

“And I’m inclined to think you have a death wish. You’ll need a slicer to get through their security systems.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” 

“If you prefer to work alone, I’ll understand. If you’ll allow me to,” He studied his glass thoughtfully. “I’d like to help.” 

“You already have,” Her eyes drifted up to his face. “More than you know. If I accept any more help from you there will be consequences.” 

“Such as?” 

“All of the colleagues who have offered me their help are currently dead. If we continue to work together as colleagues, I’ll get you killed.” 

“What if the help came from a friend?” The Whiskey loosened his tongue from where it was permanently fixed to the roof of his mouth whenever she was around. “Would it make a difference?” 

The smile he earned in return was shy with gratitude and other emotions she kept hidden from him. 

“It might. Is that what we are?” The question was genuine, not a hint of teasing in the tone. 

Adrenaline surged and fear flooded his senses. His tongue tied itself into knots again; he didn’t have an answer to that question and it terrified him. Relax, Shan; play it cool. He needed to focus on what he did have the answers to; it wasn’t like she was propositioning him (not that he would mind if she did.) He exhaled slowly, using a centering technique that Master Zho taught him to keep his mind on a clear path. What he knew is that since their meeting on Dromund Kaas, his mind was less focused on his work and that he was steadily making exceptions to his strict code of ethics to the point where that code was now in tatters. What he knew, what was that for the first time since Zho’s death, he no longer felt that the gaping maw of loneliness in his life would swallow him whole. He tried to put these fleeting sensations into words. 

“W-well, you see...I-I, it’s not that I and you...are...uhhhhh...” 

He laughed uncomfortably and gave an inelegant shrug as his lips fell silent. 

“I see...” She remarked drily, a hint of disappointment flashed in her features as she drained the rest of her glass and stood abruptly. 

“You should go to your meeting...” 

She quietly left the room with a perplexed expression with her shoulders looking deflated. He debated on whether or not to go after her to explain his inane babbling. No, that would only make things worse. He raked two frustrated hands through his hair and let his hands drift to his cheeks in horror with a gruff higher pitched whine. The opening was there, he wasn’t confessing the full depths of his jumbled feelings, all he needed to say was the truth: she was his friend. Why could he not get the words out? He heard a polite cough at his back; Vector stood in the frame of the conference door. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Theron asked with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t worry, we saw everything.” 

Theron wedged one eye open and saw that as Vector approached he wore a bemused, compassionate smile. 

“That bad, huh?” Theron dropped wearily to the stool with his chin to his chest, awaiting confirmation that his handling of that particular situation was a complete and total disaster. 

“Others have died on that same hill,” Vector began; he clapped his hand against Theron’s back. “You are not the first, and we suspect you will not be the last.” 

“Gee, thanks.” Theron snarked as he rolled his eyes. It was small comfort to know that he was not the only blithering idiot around her but the knowledge that there were others opened up a new host of concerns. He didn’t know why it bothered him but it did. 

“The Agent lives in a world of illusion and duplicity from which, if we may be so bold, you have seemed to offer her a reprieve from. We have found in our dealings with her that an honest conversation after we clear our mind, however poorly worded, is, in fact, the best approach.” 

He absorbed Vector’s wisdom with a slow nod as he stood from the stool.

“Take it slowly; if you listen, the song will guide you.” 

 

She was in the armory, polishing her knives a small cloth. She sat with her legs crossed on the floor with her back to him. He stood hesitantly in the doorway with the same mix of trepidation and bile in his throat he felt earlier. He took a calming breath and tried to channel a little of Vector’s wisdom. Her back straightened; she knew he was there but she didn’t turn around to face him. Good; it was better this way. If he tried to say it to her face, he’d never get the words out. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this—“ He confessed; the words were flowing more freely now. He did nothing to edit their frankness. 

“The whole friendship thing isn’t exactly built into the spy business and if I’m being totally honest, I don’t even think I know what that word looks like any more. Geez, I’m rambling again. It’s easier for me to write things down than say them out loud.... that isn’t the point. The point is that I can count on one hand the number of people that I trust and now that includes you...and it’s wonderful and overwhelming all at once...but yes, you are my friend...” 

She set her knife aside and turned slowly to face him. 

“And whatever the future holds, you will always have my friendship. I hope you will remember that...” 

His spirits lifted and he fought the urge to smile. Giddy honesty caught up to his lips and he was unable to prevent himself from taking it a step further. 

“When I get back we should uhhh...talk more...about things...” 

She stared at her folded hands on her lap, looking every inch the epitome of Imperial discomfort as a slow flush crept up to her cheeks. 

“Yes, agreed.” 

“Alright then, until later.” He let out a slow sigh of relief as he walked away. He even managed to look her in the eye for some of it. Vector, it seemed, steered him in the right direction. As he walked down the ship’s ramp, he felt like he could take on the whole of the galaxy. 

 

The Gilded Descent Casino was once the most decadent of its kind; with rich red carpets and luxe decor adorned in gold. Jonas sat at the bar, nursing a drink with an irritated air. He gripped the cup more tightly than was his norm; he set it down heavily and motioned for another round. He gave Theron a terse wave and turned back to his drink. Whatever he wanted to share, it wasn’t good news. 

“Kriffing hell, Shan. You don’t holo, you don’t write.” Jonas burst out as a way of greeting without preamble. 

Theron slid into the stool next to Jonas. He looked worse for wear; heavy bags sat under his eyes, his ordinarily artfully arranged disheveled hair was untidily out of place. 

“Uh, hi there.” Theron returned, suppressing a hint of an ironic smile. 

The role reversal was startling. Normally, Jonas wandered into their meetings three days late, hung-over, his arm wrapped around one of his latest conquests, complaining about the brightness of the light. It was always Theron who sat taciturn on the cantina stool, airing a laundry list of grievances about Jonas’ latest audacious behavior.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through covering for you?” Jonas demanded angrily. “Trant’s been breathing down my neck; he’s ready to send in Havoc squad to rescue you. Are you alright? She didn’t hurt you?” 

Theron’s eyebrows shot up and he put his hands up to slow Jonas’ rapid-fire questions. 

“Slow down there, pal—there’s no need to send in Havoc Squad. You know the kidnapping story was just a cover, right? I thought we were clear on that. She wouldn’t ever actually hurt me....” 

Jonas shot him a dark look and then checked over his shoulder to make sure that they weren’t overheard. 

“Look, I know you said not to, but I did some digging into your girlfriend and I found a lot of dirt. Trant’s all but confirmed the whole thing.” 

“What do you mean you did digging? Jonas, what’s going on?” 

In all their time together, Theron rarely ever saw Jonas rattled. 

“I looked into the Black Codex like you asked. If she’s after it, if the Empire gets their hands on it, we’re all dead.” 

A pit formed in his stomach; he knew when she mentioned it that something didn’t sound right. 

“What does the Black Codex do?” 

“It’s a database, it has the names of every SIS agent and their aliases, every mission, every detail. The Empire could wipe out the whole of our operations in a single day with that sort of intel.” 

“She lied to me,” Theron gasped; the room was spinning around him in a dizzying haze of neon colors and red carpet. 

“There’s more. Do you remember Ardun Kothe?” 

“Yes, he disappeared under mysterious circumstances on Quesh...” Theron’s mind seized on a moment, a snarled threat from Hunter spoken to Evie via the holo terminal: ‘I should have slit your throat on Quesh...’ Theron’s ears ceased to hear the sound; Jonas spoke with a voice that was garbled in static. 

“She murdered him; it’s her calling card. According to Trant, she lures SIS agents with the innocent act, tells them she wants to defect to the SIS then,” Jonas slid his finger across his throat to emphasize the story. 

“I don’t believe it,” Theron managed numbly; his body slid off of his seat and he stood feeling as though he’d been sucker punched in the gut. 

“Believe it, Theron. There’s a holovid of it.” Jonas grimly put his hand on Theron’s shoulder. “I can show you the footage.” 

Theron jerked his shoulder away from Jonas’ consolatory hand. 

“Wow, she really did a number on you...who would have thought we’d live to see the day someone would pull one over on the great Theron Shan.” 

His mind was divided; his heart was cleaved in two. He knew Jonas was speaking the truth but everything he saw and experienced with her was flying in the face of it. There was any number of times when he was at her mercy and she’d chosen to let him live...

He recalled another singular moment. Her voice echoed in his ears, her face was despondent as she said: 

“And whatever the future holds, you will always have my friendship. I hope you will remember that...” 

She was saying goodbye to him. How could he have been so blind? He pushed away from the bar and turned with at a jog to head toward the door. Jonas chased after him breathlessly. 

“Where are you going?” Jonas called at his back. 

“She’s going after the Black Codex, and I know where she’ll be. I’m going to stop her.”


	13. Chapter 13

Their approach, cloaked by her ship’s outstanding technology, went virtually undetected by the Star Cabal’s systems. Under the cover of her stealth belt, Evie and Vector slipped into the airlock noiselessly, waiting, watching for any triggered alarms. They were most assuredly walking into a trap; Hunter was as overconfident in his abilities as he was paranoid. He would have prepared for her arrival, with alarms, and devices to wreak havoc—that was his method. Still, as they waited in breathless silence, there were no alarms, no footfalls of armed guards.

Surely, it wasn’t this easy? Evie took a small step forward and stepped straight into the path of an unnoticed sensor. A light blinked red, signaling a timer. She dug frantically into her pouches on her tool belt and withdrew Theron’s pilfered dataspike. She worked at the control panel, her fingers flew over the keys, mistakingly entering an inaccurate code while the light continued to flash red. In five seconds the alarm would trigger, they would be pinned in the airlock, and the mission would be over before it began. Four seconds, she started to sweat. Three seconds, another mistake—in hindsight, she ought to have asked for Theron’s technical readout of the ship before he left. Two seconds—the last-ditch code was entered—the blinking red light switched to a neutral green.

Evie and Vector each exhaled a long sigh of relief. She withdrew the dataspike from the control console; her eyes lingered over it. For the first time since they departed from Corellia the cool sting of regret pierced her heart. At the time, it seemed like the logical choice to avoid any further contact with him; a clean break without explanation. As much as she loathed to admit it; he was right—she did need a slicer. Worse, she found that there was a small part of her that she missed his jokes about her slicing, their easy banter was a not wholly unpleasant way to pass the time. He fit easily into her life, as though there was always an empty place for him. Not that her life was lacking in any regard; it was more that he was an unexpected addition, a natural extension of all the things that brought her happiness. This was why she reminded herself pointedly, she made her decision. She was too attached, too many little exceptions to her decorum occurred in their time together. She uttered a little ‘tut’ to herself at her sentimental musings and pushed the dataspike back into her tool belt so that it would be out of her sight and her mind.

They crept along the empty corridors that were adorned with art and sculptures some of it Rakattan relics from the ancient past. There were no guards, no patrols, only the empty silence of a nearly abandoned ship.

“This is Cipher Nine to Keeper, do you read?” Evie asked quietly as she and Vector paused at the intersection of two separate corridors. “Are you sure the coordinates are correct, it doesn’t seem like anyone is home.”

“I read you Cipher. I read a group of heat signatures headed up to the second level. Also, I’m picking up activity near an airlock not far from where you are. Might be nothing, or it might mean trouble. If you’re going to retrieve the Black Codex, you’ll need to move quickly.”

“Understood,” Evie turned to address Vector.

“We should split up. I’ll go for the heat signatures on the second level, you go to the airlock, then set the charges.”

Vector shifted uncomfortably and set his shoulders to present an argument. She cut him off before he could open his mouth.

“You remember the plan, I take it?” She asked him calmly as she disengaged her stealth generator and peered into the corridor again.

“We do, though we don’t agree with elements of it, we know better than to question your judgment.”

“Once you’re clear of the ship, wait for my signal then trigger the detonator.” She withdrew the slim silver cylinder from a separate pouch in her belt and handed it to him. “Go now, we won’t have long before the Star Cabal notices they aren’t alone...”

He closed his hand around the detonator in her hand, his brows flexed with hesitation.

“What should we do if there is no signal?”

“Wait five minutes, then reduce the Star Cabal to fire and ash. If I should fail...if Hunter should do his worst, will you tell the others...”

Vector gently withdrew the detonator from her hand and shook his head; he appeared pensive, his face grew distant as he appeared to listen to a silent universe that was constantly in motion.

“You will not fail.” A cryptic smile spread across Vector’s lips as though he sensed more in the air than he was willing to let on. “We’re afraid that you will have to deliver your message to them in person.”

Vector drew his vibrostaff into his hand and quietly made his way around the corner.

“We will eagerly await your signal. Be careful, Cipher.”

 

She waited until he slipped around the corner before she adjusted her blaster strap more tightly against her chest with some trepidation. She was asking a lot of Vector; he was a diplomat after all, not an operative. He was largely untested in fieldwork; when he did accompany her on missions, he was not entirely inept. She had even taken to running field exercises with him whenever she was training Temple, in part because he asked her to, and in part because she wanted to ensure his safety if ever the worst should happen. If he failed to do his part, the plan would be ruined, the Black Codex would remain in the hands of the Star Cabal, the galaxy would fall into darkness. Was this the best choice? Her mind retraced the progression of her plan and she returned to her ship, to the exact moment she decided that she would simulate her untimely demise and go into exile.

_It came to her in a spark of inspiration, just as the last vestige of Theron disappeared around the corner of the hangar and all traces of red and black faded away. She allowed herself one mawkish moment to wonder if she didn’t make the decision to go after the Black Codex on her own what her conversation with Theron would have been like once he returned from his meeting._

_Lokin’s gentle footfalls interrupted her train of thought as she hit the trigger to close the loading ramp. The light of day slowly evaporated as the door sealed, leaving them in darkness, save for the soft glow of the red button on the control panel._

_“Prepare the ship for take-off. We won’t have long before he figures it out.” Her voice was steady, lifeless in tone like the vocoder of a protocol droid._

_“You took my advice after all.” Lokin did his best not to sound vaguely superior. “This is for the best. Any other decision would have resulted in his death or yours, though I confess I didn’t think you had it in you.”_

_He tamped down the triumph in his voice with a small reassuring squeeze of her shoulder. One day, farther into the future, she would tell Lokin about her terrible lapse in judgment and her dealings with the Minister. For today, she put all of her focus into stopping the Star Cabal. An aching heart could be endured; the destruction of the galaxy could not._

_“Victory at any cost,”_

_“For the Empire,” Lokin said as they crossed the threshold back into the light of the main room. He walked toward the cockpit to fire up the engines and she trailed behind._

_“For Theron.” She thought she’d whispered it in her mind, but realized that she had spoken it aloud to the empty room. The engines whirled and whined; the surge of power made the walls vibrate and it drew Vector out of his quarters._

_“We’re leaving?” He looked around the room, noted Theron’s absence, and turned his black eyes back to her with a peculiar expression that was a mix of horror and comprehension. “Without Agent Shan?”_

_“So it would seem. I thought it best not to have a Republic spy aboard our ship any longer.” She avoided the question with a cross frown that would brook no further questions. Vector pushed forward, ignoring her warning stare._

_“Odd, we overheard you discussing the state of your...friendship. The timing is suspect...” His voice trailed off; her composure broke and a little of the tidal sadness that threatened to wash over her broke upon the sands of her iron will._

_“What happened?” He inquired with a soft voice._

_His eyes darted toward the cockpit where the shuddering ship slowly lifted into flight. She fixed him with a keen gaze and the words slipped out of her mouth._

_“I‘ve done something rather rash...I need your help,”_

_Vector listened without comment. He sat with his hand covering his mouth, his eyes fixed to the floor until she finished with the last detail._

_“The Black Codex is too much power in the hands of the Sith.” She remarked with a troubled frown. “And it cannot go to the Republic...It must be destroyed...”_

_“Yes, that was our conclusion as well. You’re quite certain you want to go through with your plan?”_

_“I’ve made a foolish choice on impulse, I fear all of you may pay the price if I don’t.”_

_“It was a noble choice; we admire your courage.” He chose his next words with careful intent. “We understand your desire for secrecy but will you not tell Agent Shan? He deserves to know.”_

_She let out a low, sardonic laugh._

_“That’ll be a cheerful conversation Vector: ‘I know we’ve just met but I’ve gone and traded my life and nearly half the galaxy away in exchange for your life.’ He’d look at me like I’ve utterly lost my mind, or he’d laugh at the insanity of it. No, I will not be telling him.”_

_Vector shook his head._

_“Based on our assessment of him, we doubt very much that he would react that way.”_

_“Oh? You’re an expert on Republic spies and diplomacy now?”_

_“No, we are, however, an expert at reading auras; he is not so difficult to decode if you have been paying attention. Besides, we know how we would react if we learned a truth such as that. We would be honored to have inspired such fierce loyalty in a friend...”_

_Evie’s head dropped to her chest with a soft smile; Vector was a specialist of turning even the most disastrous situation into a bright spot._

_“You are a far better friend than I deserve. You will look after the others while I’m gone?”_

_“You have my word.”_

 

She was high above the meeting on the second level, flat on her stomach with her scope to her eye, covered in cobwebs and dust from her long climb through the narrow air vents. Her stealth suit wreaked of musk and other unidentifiable filth.

“Cipher Nine to Keeper, I’m in position.”

Beneath her, Hunter sat with his leg crossed at his knee, one member of a round table of fellow conspirators.

“Excellent work, Cipher. Beginning identification process now. I’m not detecting any holotraps. Stand by for confirmation.”

One by one, with a note of triumph in her voice, Keeper listed the names of the conspirators. Meanwhile, small snippets of the meeting echoed into the ship’s rafters.  
Evie listened as she attached one her grappling hooks to a nearby rafter. She checked her scope again, entered a few commands into her bracers.

“You lost Corellia?” One of the members exclaimed angrily.

“Adjustments are being made...”

Evie lowered herself silently from her perch to the floor of the round table, landing in a low crouch in the shadows. In her ear, Keeper continued to list the members of the meeting. Hunter put up his hand with an expressive snap of his wrist. The table fell silent; a ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“Everbody stop. We are not alone.”

Evie stood with her blaster raised, poised to strike. Her moment of vengeance arrived; the suffering Hunter inflicted, the chaos that ripped through her life would at last be avenged. She strode into the light; keeping her blaster trained on Hunter. There was a hint of fear glittering in his dark eyes but his lips wore that same mirthless smile that they always wore whenever he looked at her like she was trivial nuisance, a cog in a the larger wheel of his schemes. Panic seized the room; blue holograms evaporated into thin air. There was a scramble of chairs and feet as other Star Cabal members eager not to be identified, rushed from the room and covered their faces.

Hunter activated his stealth belt and slipped into the shadows. The skin on the back of her neck crawled; he was watching, waiting to strike. Evie gritted her teeth and drew her poison knives, ready to face down the pending assault. Behind her, a vibrosword activated, humming dangerously in the silence. Her opponent, a tall man with a thin black moustache, who Keeper was able to identify as ‘The Prince’ waited for her with his sword raised. She didn’t like the odds; Hunter could slip a knife into her back while she was engaged with the man in front of her. The Prince twirled his sword in his right hand, then his left, letting it whirl and slash through the dim light with glittering abandon.

Keeper broke through her concentration with a tight sounding voice.

“I’ve sent dossiers to every operative, bounty hunter, and Hutt Cartel member in the galaxy. Anyone who attended that meeting is now an enemy of the state. We’re still looking for the names of the other members—you haven’t time to lose, Cipher. Get to the Black Codex and...”

The signal went dead Hunter appeared with a whirl of his stealth generator at her back with his dangerous jagged vibroknife clasped in his hand, and a crazed look in his eye.

“And that’s the sound of your signal being jammed.”

She turned, put her blaster into one hand and her knives into the other as both men flanked her as they crept ever closer. Her mind decreased her calculated odds of success to less than five percent.

“Be rational Hunter, you can’t win this.” She hedged for time; if she was sly about it, she might be able to stun the Prince with a dart while she dealt a blow with her knives to Hunter.

“Killing the council won’t give you the keys to our files.” He disappeared under the cover of stealth.

The Prince raised his sword to strike, Evie whirled around to face him with her blaster steady. Behind her, there was a shuffle of feet and Hunter reappeared out of thin air. The tip of his blade pierced through her armoring and burning pain that made her eyes water seared her flesh between her ribs. She screamed out in agony; her strength sagged and it took everything in her power not to give in to her body’s demand to pass out.

“You want the Black Codex? Come find it,” He whispered it low against her ear, lips tracing a slimy line down her cheek as he withdrew the knife slowly. The jagged teeth tore through her flesh on the way out; there was a slow trickle of hot warm blood oozing from the wound. There was a second slash of the knife, she felt a burst of wind at her neck; a large clump of red curls fell to the ground while Hunter held a fistful of curling ringlets between his fingers. He traced the hair across his face with a sinister smile.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Hunter roared with a crazed high pitched cackle and disappeared into the darkness.

In front of her, the Prince raised his vibrosword to strike, Evie kept her blaster steady; her arm shook from shock, her vision blurred and refocused. If she ducked beneath his arm on the first swing, she might be able to get a shot off that that he wouldn’t be able to deflect. Her muscles tensed; she crouched lower, preparing to tuck into a dive.

A single blaster shot tore through the room. Evie wrenched her eyes closed; her body flinched as she waited for the scorching burning heat of a blaster burn.

There was a dull thud, a small gasp. Evie wrenched one eye open; the Prince fell to his knees with a bewildered expression locked into his vacant eyes. He collapsed onto the ground; blaster smoke rose from the sizzling wound through his heart. Evie took a step forward in disbelief, her eyes lifted from the body up to the blaster that dealt the killer blow. Through her hazy vision, her eyes beheld a magnificent sight that struck hope into her heart. Like he emerged from out of a dream, Theron Shan crept cautiously out of the shadows with his blaster up.

“Well, well—Theron—you certainly know how to make an entrance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry this chapter took so long to post.


	14. Chapter 14

Conflict tore through his mind while his eyes beheld troubling imagery. She was trapped between Hunter and another member of the Star Cabal. They were each edging closer to her with their weapons poised to strike. She was dangerous; he saw the holovid of her assassination of Ardun Kothe. The man surrendered to her, she murdered him in cold blood without a moment’s hesitation. There was no doubt in his mind that if she were to make the choice between his life and the Black Codex that his fate would be the same. Yet, as witnessed both of Hunter’s vicious attacks his trigger finger twitched. He fired his blaster; tense anxiety melted away from his chest and he exhaled a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. She braced for the impact of the blaster bolt. When none came, she patted her hands across her body to confirm the lack of wound with surprise then tilted her head in a puzzled way. The man poised with his vibrosword ready to cleave her skull in two dropped to the ground in front of her.

She turned, her eyes lit up with surprise and wonder. Then, ever so slowly a smile crept across her face like a vibrant sunrise and it was so warm, so pure with gratitude that his knees wobbled at the sight. The ship, his mission, the homicidal maniac that wanted them dead all faded from his conscious mind; at that moment there was nothing else but her smile. They staggered toward each other; she was moving stiffly, her hand clutched her side. His eyes shot to the gaping hole in her armor, where thick red was oozing. His mouth tightened at the sight; the wound was meant to slow her down, to impede her movement to make other more dastardly blows easier to inflict. His eyes drifted next to her hair; it was shorn with a jagged slash at a diagonal angle that left half it several centimeters shorter than the other half.

“What in the name of the galaxy are you here?” She breathed; she struggled to stand upright. 

Why was he here? He struggled to voice the answer. He ought to have allowed the natural events to unfold without his interference. She would have been dead in a matter of seconds, he could have used the distraction to get to the Black Codex. None of this sat well with his conscience, of course, who at the mere glimmer of the idea that he would allow her to perish while he watched from the shadows rebelled so violently against the thought that it made him queasy. So, he did what he had unconsciously been doing since their first encounter. He set aside Theron Shan, decorated SIS agent and Republic Spy who made the difficult choices and was forced to live with them, and allowed instead Theron Shan the man who had found a friend, the realization was somewhat revelatory, that he cared for and allowed that man to lead his decisions for a few brief moments. She was injured; she was about to face down a monster, the demands of the Republic could wait a few more minutes. 

“I came for you,” He winced and immediately regretted his phrasing. “I mean, I came to help you stop the Star Cabal,” 

He cleared his throat awkwardly at the slip and latched onto the first sentence that entered his mind. 

“You left without saying goodbye, Cipher.” 

There was a note of quiet reproach in his voice; he loathed himself for allowing it to eek its way into the sentence. She appeared uneasy, she shifted her weight between her feet and her fingers played with the cuff of her jacket in the way that he observed they did when she was avoiding a topic. Whatever crossed her mind, she quickly subdued the impulse, crossed her arms at the chest, cocked her head to the side and her mouth tilted sideways. 

“Yes, and yet, here you are—are all SIS agents this thick or were you not paying attention when I said that I didn’t need your help?” 

He leaned toward her with a challenging lift to his brows. 

“Be honest—how close did you get to triggering the alarm when you sliced their systems?”

The corners of her lips twitched with a smile that she fought and instead of anger there was an amused twinkle in her eyes. 

“Managed it on the first try...” 

He rolled his eyes with a skeptical look; she pursed her lips with feigned irritation. 

“Fine, there were two seconds left before the alarm triggered. Satisfied?” 

Her strength gave out; she dropped to her knees with a groan that she stifled by biting into her lip until it almost bled. Her fingers traced the opening in her armor, and thick blood covered her glove. Theron holstered his blaster and dropped to his knee at her side; without thinking he reached for her supply belt. His mind pulled up the image of her ritual preparing for their missions, and he remembered that she kept her Kolto injectors in the third pouch to her right. He reached for the pouch and dug into it. She swatted his overly solicitous hands away with a small ‘tut’ for his presumptuous assistance. He pulled out the Kolto injector with an overly exaggerated wave in front of her eyes and fixed her with an exasperated expression. 

“So, how’s the whole ‘not needing help’ plan working out for you so far?” 

She allowed a sheepish smile at his conversational tone. He injected the Kolto into her neck; her pinched features softened with instantaneous relief. Her eyes, which were clouded with pain cleared and he watched as they returned to their vibrant green. 

“I have everything under control,” 

“This,” His fingers traced the jagged asymmetrical line of her hair where Hunter’s knife had done it’s worst, his face radiated a mixture of skepticism and concern. “Is under control?” 

Some of the curls that were dangling by a thread came loose into his fingers. He held the pieces in the palm of his hand in horror. 

“There were some small complications...oh stop looking at me like that—it will grow back,” She replied softly with a self-deprecating half-smile at his troubled expression. 

He recalled himself with a blink, brushed the loose hair away from his palm, and remembered that as infuriating as the damage to his favorite of all her features was, there was a second more egregious wound that needed tending. He reached into the fourth pouch on her belt to retrieve the Kolto patches; this time she didn’t fight him. He eyed the wound and started to adjust the size of the Kolto patch. With her armor on, it would be difficult to tend to the wound properly—it would have to come off. His actions were automatic, he slid his hands underneath the seams of her jacket and started to slowly ease it off her shoulders so that he could more clearly see the wound. Next, his fingers went to the straps on the clasps of the black armoring at her collar bone. She gripped his wrist abruptly to stop his progress with a slight flush on her cheeks. 

“Leave it, there isn’t time. I’ll be alright,” She managed a weak reassuring smile. “I’ve...we’ve got to stop Hunter. If we don’t do it quickly, he may try to escape. If you’re here to help, follow my lead and try to stay out of his way. He’s desperate and all the more dangerous for it.” 

She slowly rose to her feet, wincing as she pulled her jacket back onto her shoulders. Her hand reached for her blaster and she made her way out of the conference room, alert, waiting for Hunter’s next assault. She wasn’t making this easy—of course, she wouldn’t. Nothing with her from the moment they met was simple. If she’d immediately drawn her weapon, been fierce and attacked him like she had the day they met, his path, however painful it might be to him, would be clear. He’d stun her, take the Black Codex and bring her back to the Republic to stand trial for the death of Ardun Kothe. 

It was what he ought to do now. Her back was to him; he should fire his toxicity dart and be done with it. But, if he was honestly assessing his mindset, there was a large part of him that was here to know why, after all their confidences, their shared adventures, the built trust between them, that she felt it necessary to lie to him. He admittedly didn’t understand everything about her but he was puzzled that this one choice in particular seemed so out of character. Her actions, the manner in which she greeted him, did not suggest to him that she was a woman who wanted him dead. In fact, her demeanor was more open, delighted even to have him working at her side. A thought crossed his mind like a heavy, dark cloud. What if all of it was an act? Was she really capable of such perfectly executed duplicity? Jonas and Trant seemed to think so—Kothe paid the price of trust with his life. 

Something about this whole business didn’t sit right with him—it was a gut feeling, Master Zho always said that those feelings were evidence of the will of the Force flowing through him and that he should heed their warnings. He thought of how she spoke of her time with the SIS, the change in her color, the regretful tears—none of that seemed like the actions of a cold-blooded killer. His mind returned around the circle of indecision to where he started, unable to commit to the right course of action. He was too close to the situation, unable to see past own biased affection for her. His mind traipsed through their previous conversations, searching for any clues of her supposed deviousness. His feet came to a sudden stop as he remembered a little of the wisdom Vector shared with him when they came to an impasse—an honest conversation, however poorly worded...’

She paused at an intersection of a corridor and peered around the corner. It was dark, mostly covered in shadows; an excellent place for an ambush from a stealth opponent. She did a scan with her bracers and motioned to him with her hand that they should continue forward. He reached out for the hand and closed his hand around her wrist. 

“Evie, wait. We need to talk—it’s important...” He whispered at her back. 

“Yes, there’s something you should know,” She turned and favored him with a shy smile as her fingers closed around his with a small squeeze before she released them. “But this isn’t the place for this type of conversation. I think Hunter is waiting for us right up to those stairs.” 

The same tingle he felt each time she happened to touch his hand shot up his arm. Her expression was tender, as unguarded as he’d ever seen—his confusion intensified as his pulse started to jump. What did she mean by’ there’s something you should know?’

Singularly focused, she moved to shift out of the shadows to continue the search for Hunter. Theron swallowed; his frustrated impulses got the better of him. He had to know the truth; he snaked his hands around her waist and he pulled her back into a nearby corner. The move was so sudden that it took her by surprise; to her credit, she didn’t pull her knives on him. She did, however, peer at him as though he’d lost his mind, and for a moment, he wondered if he had. 

“What is it? Did you see Hunter?” She whispered in confusion, her eyes peered around him anxiously as she anticipated an attack, then slowly settled on his face. 

“I know you lied about the Black Codex,” He burst out quietly unable to fight his desire for the truth any longer. 

“That’s why you’re here?” She whispered in disbelief; her chin dropped to her chest and her bitter little smile covered a little of the other emotions he could not read. 

Almost immediately, he regretted the accusation. She was good; a little too good at manipulating him. He thought that perhaps she was wounded by the confession but realized it was more likely that she knew how to toy his with his emotions. The flush in her cheeks dissipated with each passing second as she blinked at him and took a large step away from him. Her back hit the wall; her hand reached slowly for the hilt of her blaster on her hip. He took a step toward her and rested his hand gently on top of her wrist to prevent her from drawing it. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking of giving the Black Codex to the Sith. Think about what they’ll do with that kind of power.”

Her face hardened with fierce determination and she appeared to fight the next words as they were ground out between gritted teeth. 

“I’m doing my job, Theron; I don’t have a choice...” 

“Is that what you say to all the SIS agents you meet?” He fixed her with a pointed stare and took a step forward. “Is that what you said to Ardun Kothe before you murdered him?” 

Her head recoiled back like the words had slapped her in the face.

“How could you possibly say that? After everything we’ve been through together—is that really what you think of me? Why would I—“ 

“Don’t deny it; I saw the footage.” He cut her off impatiently; her face was distressed in a way that, if she was this deviously cunning, then she was a consummate performer. 

“I don’t know where you got your intel about Ardun Kothe but I swear to you that his death is not my crime. Surely, a slicer would know how easily holovid footage can be manipulated.” 

“This came from the highest levels of the SIS. What reason would they have to doctor it?” 

“The same reason someone murdered Karus Jan and kidnapped Teff’ith. It’s the same reason they put a death mark on my head and sent you to Corellia to kill me. Whatever the Star Cabal is hiding, we’re close to discovering it and they’re desperate.” 

He wavered; his heart wanted to believe her. Given all that they had endured together, it certainly sounded like the truth and her suggestion about The Star Cabal was a thought he had before he’d left for Corellia. Their organization had infiltrated and successfully toppled Imperial Intelligence. Was it possible they had operatives buried within the SIS? Or was it more likely that she was lying to him? He erred on the side of caution. 

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” He began; her tense features relaxed. “But it would help rebuild some trust if I could have some time with the Black Codex to analyze it...” 

“I can’t allow you to have it and if you try to take it by force we’ll both be out of options...” 

“Why?” He demanded with a frustrated sigh. He took another unconscious step toward her and the distance between them was closed completely. 

“I—I want to tell you,” Her eyes studied his then drifted from his face to his lips and back to his face again. “But it’s classified...” 

“It doesn’t have to be....” His voice died away, his mouth went dry as she tilted her face up to his; the tip of his nose brushed hers. “You told Keeper that you trusted me with your life. Was that the truth?”

“...Yes...” 

He lost all rational thought. Her hands slid up his arms and twisted themselves into the lapels of his jacket. Her lips were so close—all he needed to do was shift his head ever so slightly closer, allowing his lips to explore hers—surrender completely, run his fingers through her hair, pull her close, forget all responsibility to the truth, to the Republic. He stopped himself short; the realization hit him before the sounds did. For the second time since making her acquaintance, he’d fallen right into her trap. 

There was a metallic pop, a gentle fizz, and a familiar green smoke permeated his nostrils. The stench of knock-out gas was overpowering; his vision instantly began to swirl. 

“I’m sorry, Theron.” She whispered softly as took a reluctant step away from him with her blaster drawn. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but this is bigger than you or me...” 

The world whirled in a haze of colors and muffled sounds as he fought the urge to pass out. 

“There you are, Legate. I hope I’m not interrupting.” He heard Hunter snarl; Evie whirled around and came face to face with her nemesis, blisteringly angry, with a wild look in his eyes. Theron struggled to move, to draw his blaster but the gas was too strong. There was a metallic clash of knives as Evie blocked Hunter’s knives from a blow that came perilously close to his own face. With a surge of strength, she repelled the attack with all her might. Theron sank dizzily to his knees; the edges of the room were going black. She gave him one last look before Hunter attacked again. The last thing he saw before he surrendered to the depths of the all-consuming darkness caused by the gas was Evie, bent backward with Hunter’s vicious knife pressed to her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

His eyes blazed with the inflamed fury of a self-righteous zealot. His hair, which was ordinarily slicked back hung loosely around his eyes, his teeth were bared as sweat glistened across his brow. Evie lay prone on the ground, her arms crossed in the shape of an ‘x’ to prevent the downward sweep of Hunter’s jagged vibroknife. With a grunt of exertion, he pushed the knife closer toward her throat. Evie’s arms quivered in exhaustion underneath the pressure; her strength was fading, the tip of the knife hovered over the pulse point in her neck. 

“With your skills, you could have been one of us—we could have been a team,” Hunter’s eyes slid sideways with sinister intent to where Theron lay sprawled unconscious on the floor. “But it appears you have developed a taste for other sorts of partnerships.” 

She fought her fear; the cold dread that shot down her spine was palatable. Evie’s eyes darted to Theron. Thanks to her, he would be out for hours. If she died, there would be nothing to stop Hunter from turning his knife on Theron once he was finished with her. The alarming realization fueled her determination; she pushed back with all her remaining strength. Hunter met her resistance with equal fury paired with a pitying smile. 

“I have something to show you. One last secret between us after all we’ve shared together.” He reached to his bracers; his visage flickered. Before her eyes, Hunter dissolved into the form of a young woman, barely older than Evie. The smile was Hunter’s smile, the mannerisms were the same. Evie’s flabbergasted mouth hung open at the hinge of her jaw. 

“Hunter...” Evie managed to squeeze out between disbelieving blinks. “Is an alias? You’re a hologram...”

“I’m whoever I want to be. It’s older tech but it allowed me the freedom to go wherever I wanted. The Star Cabal found me as a child, took me in, trained me. They didn’t care what I was.” 

Hunter’s features hardened, cold, ruthless, calculating as she tapped her bracers again. There was another flash of blue holographic light; a new countenance appeared with flaming hair, and a face full of freckles. As though she were looking in reflective glass, Evie was face to face with her own likeness. Her reflection pushed the knife toward her chest with renewed strength. The tip of it bore a hole in her leatheris jacket. She struggled to keep the knife from boring straight through her flesh. 

This was one of her nightmares—it had to be. Wake up, Evie! Wake up. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. Sometimes that helped to stir her mind out of her tortured dreams. She didn’t jerk back into reality to a darkened room where the bed and her ship provided safety. Her nightmares were tangible and the villain of her dreams now wore her face. 

“I’ll slit your throat and watch the light bleed from your eyes. I want you to know with your dying breath that you failed to stop me. That your face will be the downfall of thousands of star systems across the galaxy. Billions will know this face and come to curse your villainy.” 

Hunter knew her intimately; of her hopes and fears this one—failing the galaxy so spectacularly, watching her remaining single shred of decency she had clung to for so many years being burned to ash, was one of her greatest fears. She’d always hoped that if she maintained some boundaries, did some good while in the service of the Empire that once her time was served or if she perished that she would be remembered kindly. Thanks to Hunter, that would never be the case. Like he did with Arden Kothe on Quesh, she would assume the mantel of blame for Hunter’s numerous dastardly crimes. 

“Of course, that won’t be the best part,” Hunter paused, licked her lips and allowed her eyes to drift hungrily back to Theron. 

“The best part will be deciding which of your friends will succumb to my wiles first. It won’t happen quickly—they’ll disappear one by one. I think I’ll start with the old man first...” Hunter took the tip of the knife and popped on of the buttons off Evie’s jacket. It skidded across the duracrete floor with three clicks before rolling to a halt. 

“The droid will prove useful, she’ll be reprogrammed and will serve me. The Rattataki and your little protege will be next. They won’t be a problem...” Two more buttons were stripped away. Evie’s muscles were paralyzed, forced by her ears and frightened mind into stasis as she hung on every word. She’d forgotten everything, her combat training, her will to fight—all of it evaporated as the whole of Hunter’s malicious plan was revealed. 

“That leaves the Killik and the spy...” The tip of the knife traced the two remaining buttons closest to her throat. “Choose: which man lives and which man dies,” 

Evie’s hand twisted her bracer until her index finger could reach the comm button. 

She activated her comm; it hissed in her ear. Her reflection stared at her, waiting for her answer with baited breath. 

“Vector,” She whispered breathlessly into her comm to get his attention. Hunter’s face widened into a mirthless smile, thinking that Evie had made her choice. 

“Agent?” 

Vector’s crisp tone sounded harried, as though he were running. She suspected he was hastening to intervene, a direct but unsurprising violation of her orders. 

“Do it now,” She ordered; she gave a grunt of exertion and pushed Hunter backwards. 

The knife flew across the room with a clatter. Hunter’s thin hands reached for her throat. Evie didn’t hesitate; she drew one of her poison tipped knives and without looking, drove it into the thigh of her doppelgänger. The other Evie shrieked with pain and rolled backward. Evie drug herself to her feet as quickly as she could. Vector’s voice roared back to life in her ear. 

“If we blow the charges now, you’ll—“ 

A hand seized her by the boot and pulled her back to the floor. She landed with a hard thud, her head hit the floor and her eyes saw stars. A hand flipped over her shoulder and a blaster barrel was pressed between her brows. The irony of being held at blaster point by herself did not escape her. 

“Do it,” She cut the comm channel abruptly.

Oxygen was ripped from the room with deafening roar. Flames, in brilliant jewel tones of red, orange, and purple exploded with intense heat and acrid smoke. She flew across the room; her back collided with a wall and she landed face first onto the floor. Her senses were muddled, her hearing distorted, her vision blurred from the blast. Metal groaned and shrieked, she counted the timing. The second blast would happen any second. She was vaguely aware that Vector’s voice was calling to her through her comm—it went unheeded. Her mind latched onto one concern chief above all the others. The second explosion spread through the room, sending shrapnel floating through the air along with other projectiles. With a running leap, she dove for the prone body on the floor, scooped it up into her arms, and with a roll, pulled it out of the way as a portion of the upper level of the ship came crashing down over head. She shielded Theron with her body as twisted hunks of metal and duracrete fell around them. 

Her head whipped around in search of cover from the flames. Her eyes settled on a nearby stack of shipping containers that went untouched by the explosions. With a groan and the last of her remaining strength, she seized him by the boot and pulled him out of the line of flames. She situated him with his back against the container; Evie collapsed next to him and caught her breath-he was deceptively heavy. The maneuver took its toll; her wound bled heavily. Her hands shook; she squeezed her fingers into her palms to prevent them from trembling. Evie reached into her pouch and pulled out the last of the Kolto injectors and an Adrenal. She squeezed her eyes shut to calm her scrambling mind while she waited for the injections to take hold.

“Come out, Cipher,” Hunter’s voice bellowed across the room. 

Green blaster bolts splattered off the wall in a explosion of sparks into a nearby corner. She kept herself still; forced her ears to take in every step, every whisper of fabric, every wheezing breath Hunter took. Smoke choked the room; there was another moan of metal on metal as above her, the remainder of the floor of the third level of the ship shifted under the persuasive heat of the flames. 

She took stock of her remaining energy; there was nothing left save for a measure of fear and exhaustion. The fear was not for her; she worried for the safety of her crew if she failed. She drew a long drag of air; held it in her lungs. It was a training exercise they taught to Imperial snipers in the academy, slow the heart beat, steady the hands, order the plan.

“Vector,” She whispered in her comm again. Static hissing filled the channel—dread flooded her chest. Did he not survive the blast? 

“We’re here,” His voice was at her back, she startled, then relaxed as he settled beside her. 

“How did you find me?” She asked with a surprised blink.

“There was a sudden surge of pheremones.” Though his dark eyes revealed little, he tilted his head toward Theron in a knowing way that brought a hint of color to her cheeks. 

“Were you successful?” She asked in a voice that was calmer than she felt. 

“We had some measure of success, yes. The Star Cabal files have been uploaded to the datapad. All is prepared.” 

“Thank you,” She whispered as she gently reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I have one last request. Get Theron to his ship.” 

“What will you do?” 

“I’m going to keep Hunter busy and end this once and for all.”

“We’re not leaving without you,” Vector argued with a fierceness that was uncharacteristic of his ordinarily cool demeanor. 

At the abrupt change in tone, Theron shifted against the shipping container with a groan. His lips curled upward into a lazy smirk. The gas was wearing off—they had a limited amount of time to complete their mission. 

“You must! The Republic cannot have access to the Black Codex. Take him, get him off the ship now.” 

Hunter, having traced their conversation drew closer. Evie rolled out of her corner and behind Hunter, firing a shot that singed his shoulder with a sizzling pop. The other Evie cursed with pain and whirled around to face her. They stood with their blasters pointed at each other, looking for a clean shot and a killer blow. 

“Goodbye, Cipher. I’ll be gentle with Agent Shan. He’ll never know that it wasn’t—“ 

Evie’s finger pulled the trigger with a surge of unadulterated anger. The shot resonated between the crackle of flames. Through the smoke, she watched as the other Evie dropped to her knees and collapsed to the ground in a heap. And that’s when it happened—there was a deafening groan, the whole of the third level came crashing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between updates. Between work and writers block this chapter was tough to write. Thanks for sticking with it! 
> 
> PS—would anyone be interested in being my beta reader?


	16. Chapter 16

Three weeks had passed since the ‘disaster’ as he’d become accustomed to calling it. He was demoted to a desk job for six months for cavorting with (Trant’s words) an enemy agent. This was the lightest possible sentence for his list of failures, chief amongst them was his failure to bring home the Black Codex. Three weeks had passed and he found himself avoiding her data file with the holo that haunted his dreams. He sat at his desk, mindlessly typing on datapads and searching half-heartedly for trends. He filed reports; his eyes avoided the one datapad that sat on the opposite side of his desk, awaiting his final summation.

Field agents whispered as they cast him with a sideways glance before they hurried past his workstation. He avoided conversations where he could, kept to himself even more than he usually did. His taciturn comportment didn’t earn him friends amongst the SIS Agents, nor did the rumors of his purported betrayal of their ideals. News traveled fast when a field agent had the audacity to work with an agent of the Empire—even when said work in question exposed a shadowy group that provoked a war. That both sides of the conflict had secretly longed for the war anyway was a moot point.

Three weeks had passed, he’d grown a beard. In fact, he hadn’t shaved since...well, since the betrayal. The thought of it still made him bristle. Even with the passage of time, the wound stung like it was freshly inflicted. ‘This is bigger than you and me,’ She told him with a glimmer of tears in her eyes. It ate at him like a corrosive dart, a poisonous line of thinking that worked its way into his bloodstream and took hold. Jonas and Trant had, after multiple attempts, persuaded him of her guilt. Even after he’d experienced her first betrayal, even after the second betrayal when she’d gassed him with Coma gas, he’d still foolishly hoped that there was more to her plan. His mind combed through every sentence, every lingering look. Even after everything he’d witnessed, there was still a large part of him that remained enshrouded in a cloud of doubt. How could everything that happened between them be a lie?

Trant was most adamant on the subject; he expanded on the ways that Evie lied. The different agents who have worked with her during the program, Castellan Restraints, testified that even with her brainwashing that she manipulated them into revealing information to her. Trant told him that this was the only way Evie could have met her end. Even if Theron managed to capture her alive, her numerous crimes, Kothe’s death, in particular, would have earned her the execution squad. He tried to persuade himself that this was a kinder fate and failed. Every night, his dreams relived the same abysmal sequence.

 

_The room was a tangled mess of metal, fire, and piles of duracrete. His eyes registered the light, his skin the radiant heat. With a blink, he scrambled to his feet. A distant warning sounded; the ship was on the verge of collapse. Life support systems were failing, the ship’s power flickered and dimmed at a staccato tempo. With a pounding head, he rounded the shipping container, tried to recall how he ended up behind said shipping container and stopped. He was face to face with Vector, who settled his hands on Theron’s shoulders and prevented him from moving further._

_“It’s better not to go that way. We don’t think you should see it,” Vector’s voice, ordinarily steady, bemused in an oddly cold, Imperial way, was thick and heavy with emotion._

_“See what?” Theron demanded, noticing the telltale tracks of tears that were streaked down his cheeks and clumped with fresh ash._

_Theron’s heart dropped to his feet and he spoke with the slow cadence of dread as he asked:_

_“Where’s Evie?”_

_He remembered little after that. Spurts of memories occasionally came to him; he staggered over to the pile of burning duracrete that she rested upon. The light had shone on her hair, which fanned out around her head like a radiant stream, that if he were macabre might have been a pool of her blood. He preferred to think of it like a softer pillow, like a bed of red flower petals. Her pale skin shone translucently in the light. He stood over her motionlessly in shock until Vector had the good sense and strength to drag him away._

 

The loss didn’t fully hit him until his feet touched the ground of the Coruscant spaceport. She betrayed him; everything between them was a bald face lie, and still, he was unable to prevent himself from mourning her. The Republic lost an enemy; there was nothing to mourn. He warned himself that though he felt the loss acutely that she’d never cared as deeply for him. Now every memory he had of her was twinged with regret. Sighing heavily, he reached for the lone datapad left on his desk.

He switched it on and gazed again at her holo. The wry smile was everything he remembered, every freckle was in place, the hair was different than how it looked...he swallowed hard and pushed the memory from his mind. It was difficult not to think of her in those final moments; the image was burned permanently into his retinas. It was a simple thing; one last task as far as she was concerned and then, at last, he could be free of her. All he had to do was mark with a red script that Cipher Nine, the scourge of the SIS, was deceased. He’d done the same with hundreds of files before. Still, this one was different.

A large hand clapped him on the back; Theron nearly jumped off his stool. Jonas peered down at him, sharp blue eyes searched glazed olive green ones. With a slight nod of his head, he knew Jonas sensed his predicament and true to the ‘Balkar’ fashion, he traveled to his point in a circuitous fashion.

“You’re living like a hermit. You haven’t returned any of my messages. It’s gone on long enough, Shan.” He remarked as he leaned his shoulder against Theron’s cubicle. “Meaava is dying to go out with you tonight, and this time I’m not taking no for an answer. Double date: you, Meaava, me, and a bottle of the finest Corellian Whiskey....” Balkar snatched the datapad from Theron’s hands.

He didn’t have the energy to fight him. His eyes settled on the holo and Balkar’s playful demeanor diminished into something that would have almost bordered on empathy if it wasn’t coming from Jonas Balkar.

“It’s the toughest part of the job,” Balkar said in a soft voice as his eyes studied the holo and then Theron thoughtfully. “And it doesn’t get easier. But I think I have something that’ll do the trick. The Jedi have that document—what is it called again? Oh, that’s right, the code...”

Theron looked up at his friend for the first time since the start of their conversation.

“If you’re going to start blabbering on about ‘not having attachments’, yeah I get it, point taken...” Theron reached for the datapad and bitterly snatched it back.

“Actually, no. But it’s not a bad rule to remember in our line of work,” Balkar took the datapad back again and reflectively typed into the open file.

“I was thinking of the line that goes something like “there is no death, there is only the Force. That is the correct way to say it, isn’t it?”

Jonas handed Theron the datapad.

“If you believe in that sort of thing, that’s how the line goes,” Theron responded cautiously.

He expected to see the brilliant red lettering spelling out her final fate, but instead, saw three letters spelled succinctly in a row: (mia). Theron’s heavy features lifted as he blinked at Balkar with a mixture of awe and confusion before realization set in.

“It doesn’t have to be resolved today, Theron. Leave it that way for as long as you need. When the right time comes, you can change it...” Jonas pulled Theron up roughly by the arm and forced him to set the datapad aside. “Now, Meeva is already at that cozy little Cantina we like near the Senate Plaza. All the drinks are on me...”

“Fine. But promise me I won’t end up naked again, lying in my own drool on the floor of Senate Plaza.”

Jonas features spread into a devilish smile.

“Who am I to prevent the Republic’s most decorated exhibitionist into doing what he does best?”

They walked out the door of SIS headquarters and onto their evening’s conquests. Theron’s mind, and, if he was honest, a tiny portion of his heart, lay resting on his desk, next to the holo of a woman with a sly sideways grin and bountiful russet waves, who as Jonas so eloquently pointed out, was now one with the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! To be continued? 
> 
> (Muhahahaha)


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